FROM   THE  LIBRARY  OF 
 
 REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON.   D.  D. 
 
 BEQUEATHED   BY  HIM   TO 
 
 THE   LIBRARY  OF 
 
 PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 
 
 SectioD     / OcXi  c^-^ 
 
 I 
 
'/ 
 
 N. 
 
'<,-'■ 
 
 THE  L  m  ^^  ^^-^ 
 
 MISCELLAN  E^:tOill 
 
 WORKS 
 
 I    N 
 
 Prose  and  Verse 
 
 O    F 
 
 Mrs.  Elizabeth  Rome. 
 
 THE 
 
 Greater  Part  now  firft  publiflied,  by  her  Order, 
 from  her  Original  Manuscripts, 
 
 By  Mr.tHEO  P  HI  LUS    ROIVE, 
 
 To  which  are  added, 
 
 POEMS  on  Several  Occasions, 
 By  Mr, THOMAS  ROWE, 
 
 And  to  the  Whole  is  prefixed. 
 
 An  Account  of  the  L I V E s  and  Writings 
 of  the  AUTHORS. 
 
 In  Two  Volumes. 
 
 VOL.  II. 
 
 L  O  N  T>  O  N: 
 
 Printed  for  R.  Hett,  at  the  Bible  and  Croijjn  in    the 
 
 Touhry  •   and  R,  Dodsley,  at  TuUfs  Head  in  Fall-??iall. 
 
 MDCCXXXIX. 
 
m^mmmmm'Asmai  »r. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 lALOGUEl,  Jgainjl  ridiculing  per* 
 
 final  defe£lsy        -        -        Page  i 
 
 Dialogue  II.   Againft  gaming,       -     $ 
 
 Dialogue  III.  Againjt  a  life  ofpleafure, 
 
 II 
 17 
 
 -  24 
 
 Letters  to  the  right  honourable  the  Countefs  of ^6 
 
 Letters  to  Mr,  Thomas  Rowe,  and  to  feveral  of  his 
 
 relations,  -         -        -        -        -         1^4 
 
 Letters  to  various  perfons^         •         -        -        219 
 
 Letters  under  fiSfitious  names. 
 Letters  to  the  honourable  Mrs, 
 
 Poems  on  Several  Occasions,  by 
 Mr.  rn  0  MAS  R  0  WE. 
 
 Horace,  Book  I.  Ode  XII.  imitated, 
 Tibullus,  Book  I.  Elegy  III. 
 An  ode  on  Virtue, 
 
 SL  2 
 
 245 
 248 
 
 An 
 
/ 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 An  epiftle  to  a  Friend  -y  written  in  the  fpring^  1710. 
 
 265 
 David'i  lamentation  over  Saul  and  Jonathan  \  from 
 
 2  Sam.  chaf*  I,  -  _  272 
 
 Tb  Daphnis.  An  epiftle^  giving  an  account  of  the  mofi 
 
 celebrated  writers  in  poetry  of  the  fair  fex^  276 
 An  epiftle  to  Climene.     Imitated  from  the  French  of 
 
 Madame  Des  Houlieres,  -  -  283 
 
 ^he  Caprice.     From  the  fame ^  -         -         286 
 
 Pindar'j  ode  to   Proferpine.     Tranjlated  from   the 
 
 French  of  Monfieur  de  la  Motte.     Infcrib'd  to 
 
 the  reverend  Mr.  John  RufTel,  -  -  289 
 An  ode  to  Delia,      '    -  -  .  .  297 
 
 An  ode  on  Liberty^  -        -  _        -     303 
 
 D  I  A- 
 
^" 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES 
 
 O  F 
 
 Mrs.  Elizabeth  Rowe. 
 
 V  o  L.   II. 
 
 rj,  ^  ^  ,|,  ,J,  c^,  .|,  ,i,  ^  .J,  ,J,  ,4,  .^  .^  <jr  4,  ^  :|,  ^  ,|,  .^  ,|,  cj^  c;^  r|,  >^  .;,  <|,  ,|^  c^^ 
 
 DIALOGUES. 
 
 DIALOGUE    I. 
 
 LOUISA. 
 WS^^c^^  OW  could  you  be  {o  barbarous,  fifler, 
 '^^'^  ^^"  to  ridicule  Mrs.  Moliere\  fliape,  and 
 %/^  niimic  her  limping  ftep,  when  flie 
 
 was  hardly  got  out  of  the  room  ? 
 MAR  I  A. 
 This  reproof  from  you,  Madam, 
 is  really  unexpected.  I  thought  to  render  myfelf 
 agreeable,  by  imitating  Mrs.  Moiiere^s  airs  and 
 graces  ;  I  never  yet  heard  you  own  that  fhe  was 
 either  crooked,  or  la:ne,  or  had  arty  detormity  in 
 her  perfon,  or  mien. 
 
 Vol.  ir.  B  LOUISA. 
 
2         DIALOGUES. 
 
 LOUISA. 
 
 If  there  was  not  a  greater  deformity  in  youf 
 mind,  than  in  her  perfon,  you  could  never  ridicule 
 thofe  natural  defeds,  which  a  generous  and  humane 
 temper  would  pity  j  efpecially  in  one  of  her  affable 
 difpofition,  and  excellent  underflanding.  Inftead 
 of  defpifmg  fuch  a  form,  you  ought  to  thank  God 
 that  yours  is  not  like  it. 
 
 MARIA. 
 
 That  I  do  nioft  heartily!  My  devotions  on 
 this  head  are  very  ardent  and  fmcere,  whatever 
 they  are  on  other  occafions. 
 
 LOU  IS  A. 
 
 If  you  had  her  mind,  tho'  with  a  worfe  figure 
 than  hers,  it  would  be  no  difadvantage  to  you. 
 There  is  fuch  a  beauty  in  her  whole  condud,  fuch 
 a  conftant  calm  and  fweetnefs  in  her  temper,  that 
 one  mud  be  very  malicious  to  overlook  fo  much 
 merit,  and  make  cruel  remarks  on  the  defers  of 
 her  form.  I  wifh  you  would  take  this  generous 
 advice  of  Mrs.  Barbcr^s  : 
 
 On  vice  your  hiun'rous  vein  difplaVy 
 "     ^I'is  7neritorious  there ; 
 Or  tow^ritig  vanity  allay^ 
 But  oh  !  misfortune  /pare. 
 
 It  will  not  over-burthen  your  memory  to  learn  this 
 excellent  rule  by  heart. 
 
 MARIA. 
 I  HAVE  no  poetical  tafte. 
 
 LOUISA. 
 I  WISH  you  had ;  it  might  give  a  more  gentle 
 and  harmonious  turn  to  your  mind,  and  ibften  that 
 fevere  difpofirion,  that  makes  you  uneafy  to  your- 
 felf,  and  all  your  acquaintance.  You  feem  to  be 
 in  a  (late  of  jfoilility  with  all  human  kind  :  No- 
 thino;  contents  you.    Some  people  are  too  tail,  and 
 
 iome 
 
DIALOGUES.         1 
 
 fome  too  fhort,  fome  too  fat,  and  others  too  lean, 
 and  nothing  is  as  it  fhouid  be.  You  can  find  no 
 excellence  in  all  the  works  of  God,  excepting  your 
 own  fine  perfon  •,  which  one  Would  think  fhouid 
 be  the  model  of  all  perfection,  or  you  could  noc 
 be  fo  critical  on  every  one  elfe. 
 
 MARIA. 
 
 Why  really,  fifter,  I  fee  no  reafon  to  be  dil- 
 contented  with  my  own  fhape,  or  features. 
 
 LOUISA. 
 
 And  Mifs  Squinny  is  as  well  fatisfy'd  with  her 
 own  beauty  as  you  are  with  yours  ;  and  yet  you 
 have  mimick'd  the  oddcaft  of  her  eyes  folo'ng,  that 
 a  little  more  pradife  will  make  you  downright 
 fquint:  And  if  you  imitate  Mrs.  Moliere*^  Hep  much 
 longer,  I  am  afraid  you  will  be  quite  lame. 
 
 MARIA, 
 
 Who  is  ridiculing  natural  defeds  now? 
 LOU  IS  A, 
 
 No,  fifler ;  'tis  not  natural,  but  acquir'd  and 
 voluntary  imperfedions,  that  I  am  expofing. 
 
 MARIA, 
 
 You  are  my  elder  fifter,  and  have  my  mother's 
 partiality  to  fupportyou;  but  really  thefe  admo- 
 nitions are  a  little  too  afluming. 
 
 LOU  IS  A. 
 
 I  don't  ufe  to  talk  in  fo  fevere  a  ftrain,  but, 
 Mifs  Molly^  you  have  touch'd  me  on  a  tender  point. 
 The  vafl  efteem  I  have  for  Mrs.  Moliere^  will  not 
 fuffer  me  to  hear  her  expos'd  ;  nor  can  I  be  un- 
 concern'd  for  your  charader.  It  would  be  want 
 of  natural  affedion,  to  fee  you  make  yourfelf  hated 
 and  fhunn'd,  as  the  pefl  of  fociety  •,  which  mull 
 be  your  lot,  if  you  carry  this  cruel  cenforious  tem- 
 per into  all  companies.  What  pleafure  can  you 
 rake  in  contemplating  only  on  the  blemifhes  of  your 
 own  fpecies?  I  fliould  think  the  beauties  and  graces 
 of  human  nature  a  more  elegant  and  agreeable  fpe- 
 culation,  B2  MARIA, 
 
4         DIALOGUES. 
 
 MAR  I  A, 
 Sister,  are  you  aJmoft  come  to  the  conclufion 
 of  this  judicious  lecture  ? 
 
 LOUISA. 
 As  foon  as  I  have  recall'd  to  your  memory  one 
 or  two  inftances  of  the  juftice  of  divine  providence 
 on  this  crime  of  mocking  natural  defeds.  You 
 know  Jenny  Flounce  broke  her  leg,  in  the  very 
 action  of  mimicking  her  lame  miftrefs ;  and  Mifs 
 fitter  has  ridicul'd  her  purblind  fifter,  till  fhe  is 
 grown  ftark  blind  herfelf.— — My  dear  fifter,  I 
 perceive  by  the  remorfe  and  confufion  that  appear 
 in  your  looks,  I  have  faid  enough :  I  will  only 
 repeat  a  few  lines  that  may  give  you  a  true  notion 
 of  beauty,  from  a  fine  poem  cali'd  T^he  Art  of 
 Ch  arming. 
 
 What  is  the  blooming  tinulure  of  a  skin 
 51?  feace  of  mind,  to  harmony  within  ? 
 What  the  bright  fparkling  of  the  fineft  eye 
 J'o  the  foft  foothing  of  a  calm  reply  ? 
 Can  comelinefs  of  fortn^  or  fhape^  or  air, 
 With  comelinefs  of  words  or  deeds  compare  ? 
 No,  thofe  at  firft  tFiinwary  heart  may  gain. 
 But  thefe^  thefe  only  can  that  heart  retain. 
 
 DI  A 
 
DIALOGUES. 
 
 DIALOGUE    II. 
 
 TR  I FL  E. 
 EAR   Lady  Harriot^  how  am  I  rejoic'd  to 
 find  you  able  to  bear  company  again  after 
 your  long  illncfs?  I  have  engag'd  a  charming  party 
 ibr  ^iadrille.  as  foon  as  ever  you  will  appoint  the 
 time  for  their  attendance  at  your  own  apartment. 
 HARRIOT. 
 You  are  very   obliging  indeed,  Mrs.  TriJIe,  in 
 taking  fuch  care  to  divert  me  *,  and  the  vanity  of 
 my  pall  life  has  given  you  too  much  reafon  to  be- 
 lieve I  fliall  fpend  my  future   time    to  no  better 
 purpofe  :  But  this  ficknefs  has  put  my  mind  in  an- 
 other fuuation,    and   given    me    a  quite  different 
 opinion  of  what  I  once  call'd  pleafure,  and  inno- 
 cent amufement. 
 
 TRIFLE. 
 I  HOPE  you  are  not  grown  fo  fuperftitious,  as 
 to  be  afraid  of  gaming,  or  to  think  there  can  be 
 
 any  thing  criminal  in  a   pack  of  cards. Why, 
 
 my  dear,  you  are  quite  funk  in  fpleen  and  vapours. 
 
 Pray   did    your  grandmother  ever  teach  this 
 
 notable  rhyme?  that 
 
 Cards  and  dice 
 
 Are  the  devil's  device. 
 
 HARRIOT. 
 
 Perhaps  there's  more  truth  in  this  rhyme  than 
 you  imagine.  It  appears  to  me  a  fort  of  infernal 
 ftratagem,  by  which  fome  evil  genius  was  leading 
 me  on  to  my  own  deflru6tion,  and  the  ruin  of  my 
 
 family. When  I  married  my  Lord,  he  was  in 
 
 free  and  eafy  circumftances.    By  my  attachment  to 
 cards,  attended  with  conftant  ill-luck,  I  involv'd 
 
 B  3  the 
 
6         DIALOGUES. 
 
 the  tendered  and  beft  of  husbands  in  a  thoufand 
 difficulties.  The  natural  liberality  of  his  temper 
 was  reftrain'd,  to  fupply  my  extravagance.  Thofe 
 generous  adions  that  adorn'd  his  Itate  of  profpe- 
 rity,  are  now  funk  in  a  gloomy  anxiety  how  to 
 anfwer  the  numerous  debts  my  vanity  had  con- 
 traded.  This  thought  late  heavy  on  my  heart, 
 when  I  faw  his  concern  for  me  in  this  late  illnefs. 
 It  touch'd  me  with  exquifite  remorfc,  to  find  him 
 fo  tenderly  folicitous  for  a  life  fo  deitrudive  as  mine 
 had  been,  to  the  peace  and  tranquility  of  his  foul  ^ 
 that  had  clouded  his  gayeft  hours,  and  ftain'd  all 
 
 the  luftre  of  his  former  condud. . 
 
 TRIFLE, 
 
 I  MUST  interrupt  you  now,  in  my  Lord's  defence. 
 No  man  has  a  fairer  charader,  he  has  never  re- 
 ftrain'd your  expences  -,  whatever  fums  you  loft, 
 he  had  ftill  the  generofity  to  difcharge  your  debts 
 of  honour. 
 
 HARRIOT. 
 
 My  debts  of  honour^  as  you  call  them,  were  in- 
 deed pundually  paid  i  would  to  heaven  my  debts 
 of  equity  and  confcience  were  half  fo  well  difcharg'd  f 
 That  juftice  might  have  fav'd  many  an  honeft  tradef- 
 man,  and  his  family  from  want  arid  mifery.  But 
 this  curfed  attachment  to  cards  harden'd  my  heart 
 againil  all  the  fentiments  of  juftice  and  compaffion, 
 and  even  effaced  the  tender  impreffions  of  nature 
 from  my  heart.  My  children  were  negleded,  and 
 left  wholly  to  the  care  of  mercenary  fervants.  My 
 Lord,  the  beft  or  men,  found  me  always  cold  and 
 inf^nfible  to  his  merit  and  tendernefs.  Liftead  of 
 foicening  the  perplexities  of  life,  I  plung'd  him 
 into  new  diftrefs.  His  fondnefs  would  not  fufter 
 him  to  be  fevere,  and  his  gentle  remonftrances 
 were  infignificant.  An  ardor  for  gaming  pofTefs'd  all 
 my  foul,  Ombre  and  §uadnlle  engrof^j'd  my  whole 
 
 attention , 
 
DIALOGUES.         7 
 
 attention  ;  thefe  were  the  fubjeds  of  my  waking 
 |:houghtS5  and  of  my  nightly  dreams. 
 TRIFLE, 
 And  what  more  agreeable  fubjefl  could  employ 
 your  thoughts?  But  for  the  dear  diverfion  of  cards, 
 life  would  be  an  infignificant  thing,  a  mere  blank. 
 Were  I  debarred  from  that  dear  amufement,  breath- 
 ing would  be  a  fatigue,  and  I  fhould  contentedly 
 make  my  exit  from  the  world. 
 
 HARRIOT, 
 And    pray  what  do   you   propofe  to  entertain 
 yourfelf  with  in  the  next?  What  fchemes  of  diver- 
 fion have  you  contriv'd,  in  which  to  pafs  the  tedious 
 length  of  eternity  ? 
 
 TRIFLE, 
 That's  a  concern  fo  diftant  and  uncertain,  that 
 it  gives  me  no  manner  of  trouble,  Thefe  fort  of 
 chmiera's  never  enter  my  brain ;  or  if  they  did,  I 
 fhould  find  lome  little  diverfion  or  other,  to  banifh 
 fuch  gloomy  fubjeds. 
 
 HAR  RIOT. 
 But  a  time  will  come,  when  thefe  gloomy  fub- 
 .ie(5ls  will  prefs  with  their  full  energy  on  your  mind. 
 The  not  thinking  of  death  will  not  make  us  im- 
 mortal.  1  fhould  have  talk'd  juft  as  you  do  now, 
 
 before   my  lafl  illnefs,  but  that  conquer'd  all  my 
 gayety.     The  phyficians  durfl:  not  flatter  me  with 
 life,  nature  feem'd  to  be  making  its  lafl  efforts  to 
 retain  my  flying  breath.    I  thought  every  moment 
 would  be  the  fatal  period  of  all  my  future  hopes, 
 and  that  death  would  immediately  land  me  on  fome 
 bleak  and  defolate  fhore,  a  naked,  un-embodicd. 
 fpirit,  fliivcring  with  horror  and  guilt  among  ghofls 
 and  gloomy  fpecires.     My  apprehenfion  in  this  in- 
 terval was  more  quick  and  penetrating  than  ufual; 
 J  cannot  exprefs  with  what  an  energy  thefe  terrors 
 were  flx'd  on  my  imagination.     Had  I  been  pof- 
 feflfor  of  the  whole  world,  I  would  have  given  it, 
 
 B  4  for 
 
8         DIALOGUES. 
 
 for  fome  of  thofe  ineftimable  hours  I  had  lavifli'd 
 away  in  guik  and  vanity. 
 
 TRIFLE, 
 
 I  SUPPOSE  the  parfon  of  the  parifh  put  all  thefe 
 whimfies  into  your  head:  I  hear  he  was  very  offi- 
 cious in  attending  you, 
 
 HARRIOT, 
 
 His  attendance  in  this  exigence  was  indeed  my 
 greateft  bleiTing  He  a6ted  becoming  the  prudence 
 and  fandity  of  his  charadler :  nothing  could  be  more 
 plain  and  fmccre,  and  at  the  fmie  time  more  gen- 
 tle and  compaflionare.  I  believe  he  thought  me 
 pafl  hopes  of  recovery,  and  was  embarafs'd  how  to 
 exprefs  himfelf  in  fuch  terms,  as  might  keep  m.e 
 from  the  oppofite  extremes  of  prefumption,  or  de- 
 fpair. 
 
 TRIFLE, 
 
 Why  you  are 'quite  in  the  fpleen.  I  begin  to 
 find  your  diforder  contagious  •,  it  you  talk  on  thefe 
 fubjeds  much  longer,  I  fhall  be  in  the  vapours. 
 But,  dear  Lady  Harriot^  are  you  refolv'd  to  bid 
 adieu  to  Ofnbre  and  ^adrille  ? 
 
 HARRIOT, 
 
 I  AM  yet  but  a  young  penitent,  and  dare  not 
 fpeak  tco  confidently,  but  I  hope,  by  the  divine 
 alTiftance,  to  keep  my  refolution  :  And  to  free 
 myfelf  from  this  enchantment,  by  flying  the  temp- 
 tation, next  week  my  Lord  will  carry  me  into  the 
 country. 
 
 T R  IF LE, 
 
 And  there  I  hope  you'll  live  like  Lady  Grace^ 
 in  the  Provok'^d  Husband^  fpend  your  time  in  read- 
 ing, in  walking  by  a  canal,  or  fitting  under  a 
 great  tree.  O  the  infipid  life !  I  can't  imagine 
 how  you  will  pafs  the  tedious  fummer,  unlefs  'tis 
 in  catching  butterflies,  or  making  cowflip-balls 
 for  your  children. 
 
 //  A  R^ 
 
DIALOGUES,         9 
 
 HARRIOT, 
 
 If  my  time  had  never  been  worfe  imploy'd,  I 
 had  been  freed  from  the  inquietude  that  now  di- 
 ltra(fts  my  mind  ;  while  I  rcfled:  on  my  own  guilt, 
 and  the  perplexities  in  which  I  find  my  Lord  in- 
 volved by  my  extravagant  condudl. 
 TRIFLE, 
 
 This  is  fuch  a  ridiculous  way  of  reafoning,  fuch 
 an  unfifhionable  manner  of  thinking,  that  I  can't 
 bear  it.  Indeed,  Lady  Harriot y  this  ficknefs  has 
 hurt  your  under  Handing.  You  are  good  for  juil 
 nothing,  but  to  retire  with  my  I  ord  to  his  old  man- 
 fion  houfe  in  the  country  •,  for  with  thefe  odd  fenti- 
 ments,  thefe  fingularities,  you  would  make  a  ftrange 
 figure  in  the  Beau  Monde.  Your  retirement  will  be 
 very  feafonable.  Without  interruption  you  may 
 there  go  to  church,  and  fay  your  prayers;  and  in- 
 ftead  of  lofing  your  money  politely  at  cards,  you 
 may  give  it  away  in  alms,  and  procure  the  infjgni- 
 ficant  blefllng  of  the  poor  and  needy  with  it,  und 
 get  yourfelf  the  laudable  character  of  a  very  good 
 Chriflian. 
 
 HARRIOT. 
 
 I  WISH  I  may  deferve  it  I  that  glorious  title  is 
 now  all  my  ambition.  It  was  but  a  few  weeks 
 iince,  1  v/ould  have  given  all  that  mortality  can 
 boad,  for  the  privilege  of  fuch  a  charader.  A  fine 
 ]ady — —  a  toafted  beauty,  gave  me  little  confola- 
 tion,  when  I  thought  myfelf  entring  the  dreadful 
 dominions  of  death,  turning  into  a  pale  and  ghailly 
 carcafe,  confin'd  in  a  gloomy  vault  among  fliele- 
 
 tons,  worms  and  corruption  : Thefe  were  dif- 
 
 mal  fcenes,  to  one  that  never  before  had  a  ferious 
 thought  of  dying. 
 
 TRIFLE. 
 
 These  are  difmal  fcenes  indeed  1  I  fhall  dream 
 pf  nothing  but  ghods  and  fpedres  this  whole  night. 
 !— I  befeech  you;^  Lady  Harriot^  lee  us  quit  this 
 
 whimfical 
 
lo      DIALOGUES. 
 
 whimfical  fubjed,  and  talk  no  longer  of  death-bed^ 
 and  fepulchres. 
 
 HARRIOT, 
 
 Do  you  really  believe  you  fhall  ever  die  ?  or  if 
 you  ihould  live  thirty  years  longer,  are  you  fure 
 xhat  you  fhall  be  no  older  than  at  this  prefcnt  in- 
 Hant  r 
 
 TRIFLE. 
 
 I  H  A  V  E  not  thought  enough  of  thefe  diftant 
 events,  to  give  you  a  pofitive  anfwer.  I  am  but 
 a  fhort-fighted  mortal,  and  never  prelume  to  pry 
 into  futurity.  At  prefent  I  feel  myfelf  in  perfed: 
 health,  in  the  bloom  of  youth,  without  the  lead 
 inclination  to  meditate  on  death,  or  old  age,  as  1 
 have  no  fymptom  of  either.  Pafling  the  prefent 
 Jiour  gaily  is  my  grand  concern. 
 
 Tllfeize  the  jocund  moments  as  they  flyy 
 And  all  the  ills  of  future  fate  defy, 
 
 HARRIOT, 
 
 A  PRUDENT  refolution;  could  you  (lop  therevo-* 
 lutions  of  time,  and  command  the  fun  to  ftand|lilL 
 
 TRIFLE. 
 Well,  my  dear,  I  have  had  a  fufficient  M^//2^;;/o 
 of  mortality  for  once.  And  when  I  come  to  vifit 
 you  in  the  country,  I  fhall  expecl  to  find  you  in 
 your  clofet,  with  a  Fraul'ife  of  Fiety  in  your  hand, 
 and  a  death's  head  and  an  hour-glafs  before  you  ; 
 or  if  your  devotion  fhould  take  a  more  romantic 
 .turn,  perhaps  you'll  retire  to  Ibme  grotto,  beautiful 
 in  the  height  of  negligence,  with  your  own  fine 
 flaxen  hair  falling  over  your  neck,  like  Mary  Mag- 
 dalen,, in  that  pidure  that  hangs  by  you Bat  I 
 
 forget  myfelf;  you  look  as  if  you  wanted  reft,  and 
 fo,  dear  Lady  Harriot  y  I'll  leave  yon  fans  ceremonie. 
 
 D  I  A- 
 
DIALOGUES.       II 
 
 DIALOGUE     IIL 
 
 CLERIMONT. 
 
 J  A  M  furpriz'd,  fifter,  to  find  you  have  fpent 
 this  whole  day  at  home,  and  more,  to  hear  you 
 have  no  evening  engagement.  Are  balls  and  aflfem- 
 blies  prohibited?  or  is  the  play-houfe  lock'dup? 
 or  was  you  frighted  with  the  fight  pf  a  ghofl  in 
 your  Jafl  midnight  ramble? 
 
 A  R  A  B  E  L  L  A. 
 
 Nothing  of  all  this  ;  I  am  only  trying  the  no- 
 velty of  retirement.  I  have  been  running  one  dull 
 circle  of  vanity  thefe  five  years,  in  which  every  week, 
 and  almofl  every  day,  has  paft  without  any  variety, 
 a  mere  tedious  repetition  of  the  fame  follies, 
 CLERIMONT. 
 
 But,  my  dear  fifter,  why  would  you  put  your- 
 felf  to  the  trouble  of  fo  many  experiments,  before 
 you  would  yield  to  the  convidion  of  this  great  truth, 
 fhat  all  below  the  fun  is  vanity?  However,  I  am 
 pleas'd  with  the  change,  but  a  little  furpriz'd  to 
 find  you  grown  fo  wife  in  an  inflant.  This  fud- 
 den  illumination  looks  more  like  the  efi'edl  of  ca- 
 price than  of  reafon.  Fray,  Madam,  from  what 
 hour  laft  night  may  I  date  this  glorious  reforma- 
 tion? or  whAwas  the  occafion  that  you  parted 
 from  the  affembly  fo  difgufted^  and  fo  tir'd  of  the 
 world  ? 
 
 ^ARABELLA, 
 
 T  o  difguife  nothing  from  you,  brother,  I  fancy 
 the  world  grows  tir'd  of  me.  I  have  appeared  fo 
 conilantly  at  all  public  entertainments,  that  people 
 feem  weary  of  feeing  me  ;  and  every  new  face,  tho' 
 perhaps  not  fo  handfome  as  mine,  ingages  the  at- 
 tention of  all  the  pretty  fellows.  I  may  be  as  con« 
 templative  as  I  pleafe,  no  body  troubles  his  head 
 
 abouc 
 
i^      DIALOGUES. 
 
 aSout  me,  nor  makes  the  leaft  pretence  to  interrupt 
 my  medications. 
 
 CLERIMONr. 
 Then,  Madam,  I  may  hope  for  the  honour  of 
 your  company,  in  feme  of  thefe  vacant  hours. 
 ARABELLA, 
 Really,  Sir,  you  have  little  obligation  to  me, 
 for  making  your  houie  a  fanduary  from  the  con- 
 tempt of  mankind. 
 
 CLERIMONT. 
 *T  I  s  only  the  too  great  delicacy  of  your  temper, 
 that  makes  this  fuppofition  •,  time  has  not  yet  im- 
 paired a  charm  in  your  face.  But  I  have  no  defjgn 
 to.compliment  you  with  perpetual  youth  ;  nor  would 
 I  have  you  fancy  yourfclf  quite  fo  young  at  fix  and 
 twenty,  as  you  was  at  fixteen. 
 
 ARABELLA, 
 You  would  fooner  perfwade  me  to  reckon  my 
 age,  like  the  Egy^tuvis^  by  lunar  years,  and  fancy 
 
 myfelf  fourfcore. 
 
 CLERIMONT, 
 
 There  is  a  greater  decorum  in  fetting  yourfelf 
 forward,  than  in  going  backward  in  life.  For  cer- 
 tainly the  fun  does  not  (land  ftill,  nor  the  year  roll 
 backward,  nor  will  old  ruRic  Time  with  his  fcythe 
 and  hour-glafs  bq  perfwaded  to  flacken  his  fpeed^ 
 in  compliment  to  a  fair  lady.  Declining  autum'i 
 will  foon  overtake  your  youthful  blo^  •,  anddiowj 
 ever  the  fields  again  renew  their  Verdure,  a  bej^Ye- 
 ous  face,  once  decay'd,  never  regains  a  fecond  fpi  ing. 
 ARABELLA. 
 
 Well,  my  dear  l>rother,  you  fliall  place  me  in 
 what  fituation  you  v^ill.  I  have  no  reluftance  to 
 be  thruft  back  to  the  lafl  broken  arches  in  Mirza's 
 vifion  ;  the  gravity  of  my  prefent  temper  fuits  very 
 well  with  that  period  of  life.  You  fhall  forget  I 
 am  your  filler,  ifyoupleafe,  and  fancy  I  am  your 
 great  ofrandm.other. 
 ""       ""  CLE. 
 
DIALOGUES.       13 
 
 CLERIMONr. 
 
 Why  really.  Madam, .  I  begin  to  have  a  great 
 veneration  for  you,  and  am  delighted  with  the  la;- 
 gacity  of  your  temper  ;  you  are  mightily  improv'd 
 
 with  one  afternoon's  folitude. But,  dear  Mifs 
 
 Belly  let  me  afk  you  one  queftion  :  On  what  terms 
 did  Carlos  and  you  part,  at  your  laft  interview  ? 
 ARABELLA. 
 
 Why,  we  parted  never  to  meet  again. — ~  This 
 is  a  nice  fubjedt,  and  I  beg  you  would  drop  it,  and 
 never  name  him  to  me  for  the  future. 
 CLERIMONr. 
 
 I  A  M,  Madam,  your  mod  obedient  humble 
 fervant,  and  fhall  punctually  obferve  your  com- 
 mands. If  you  keep  this  refolution,  you  will  tafe 
 my  heart  of  its  weightieft  care. 
 
 ARABELLA. 
 
 Put  yourfelf  out  of  pain  for  my  refolution. 
 You  know  great  alterations  fometimes  fpring  from 
 trivial  accidents,  in  the  inoral,  as  well  as  the  po- 
 litical world.  Indeed  my  conformity  to  the  Beau 
 Monde  was  often  diffembled,  and  infincere :  half 
 my  follies  were  rather  the  effedl  of  affedation  than 
 nature.  I  durft  not  prefume  to  appear  wifer  or 
 better  than  other  fafhionable  people. 
 CLE  R  I  M  O  N  r. 
 
 I  F  I  N  D  then,  'cis  ungenteel  for  people  to  be  in 
 their  right  fenfes,  and  that  'tis  a  ridiculous  thing,  to 
 be  wife  or  good  beyond  the  ftandard  of  the  mode. 
 ARABELLA. 
 
 Why  really,  brother,  with  your  lobriety  of 
 difcourfe  and  behaviour,  you  would  make  a  very 
 unpolice  figure  in  fome  iliining  aiTemblies;  and  you 
 would  find  it  neceflary  to  make  fome  apology  for 
 being  a  reafonable  creature,  and  muft  certaii^ly  ex- 
 cufe  your  intruding  yourfelf  among  well-bred  com- 
 pany, in  your  right  fenfes. 
 
 CLE' 
 
14       DIALOGUES. 
 
 C  L  E  R  I  iM  O  N  r. 
 
 You  give  me  a  fine  pidlure  of  the  modifh  world  ^ 
 and  when  I  frequent  chofe  fhining  aflembhes  you 
 defcribe,  I'll  take  care  to  afk  their  pardon  for  not 
 being  out  of  my  wits,  and  make  the  befb  excufe  I 
 can  for  coming  among  them,  without  being  liark 
 mad :  but  then  I  fliall  expect  forhe  .apology  from 
 thofe  gay  animals,  for  prefuming  to  walk  ered, 
 and  putting  themfelves  out  of  the  clafs  of  their  four- 
 footed  brethren  who  a(5l  by  inftindl,  and  fport,  and 
 
 fight,  and  feed,  and  deep,  and  die. But,  my  dear 
 
 filter,  let  me  afl^:  you,  how,  with  your  good  fenfe 
 and  ftrid:  education^  you  have  been  able  to  fpend 
 thefe  laft  five  years  in  gaming,  dancing,  drelfing 
 and  fleeping?  Did  you  think  this  the  end  of  your 
 creation,  and  the  grand  concern  of  a  rational  and 
 immortal  being?  or  could  you  ever,  at  night,  re- 
 fie6t  with  fitisfa6tion  on  one  of  the  days  fpent  in 
 fuch  a  wild  chafe  of  vanity  and  extravagance? 
 ARABELLA, 
 
 Since  you  will  take  on  you  the  office  of  my 
 confellor,.  I  think  myfelf  obhg'd  in  confcience  to 
 fpeak  the  truth.  I  have  been  fo  far  from  refleding 
 with  fatisfadion  on  my  paft  condud,  that  as  foon 
 as  ever  I  found  myfelf  alone,  and  at  leifure  for 
 thought,  the  review  of  my  daily  follies  and  indif- 
 cretions  made  me  the  moft  unhappy  creature  on 
 earth.  Sometimes  my  own  \\\  addrefs,  at  other 
 times  the  fancy'd  negled  of  the  company,  funk  me 
 in  the  vapours ;  and  often  a  fecret  remorfe  for  the 
 guilt  of  fo  much  tim.e  mifpent,  banifh'd  fleep  from 
 my  eyes  and  peace  from  my  foul. 
 
 C  L  E  R  I  M  O  N  r. 
 
 And  ye:,  like  the  fun,  you  could  rife  again  in 
 the  morningj  and  with  frefli  vigour  begin  the  glo- 
 rious toil,  and   run  your  diurnal   race  in  the  fame 
 
 circle  of  vanity. But  after  fuch  a  train  of  dif- 
 
 appointmentSj    what   couki   you   promife  yourfdf 
 
 from 
 
DIALOGUES.       i^ 
 
 from  the  enfuing  day,  beyond  what  you  found  in 
 thQ  pad? 
 
 ARABELLA. 
 
 I  ALWAYS  flatcer'd  mylelf,  that  fome  nice  cir- 
 cumftance,  fome  fortunate  concurrence  of  events^ 
 v/hich  never  happened  before,    would  render  the 
 next  entertainment  more  complete  than  the  laft. 
 C  L  E  R  I  M  O  N  r. 
 
 In  this  fucceflion  of  vain  expedations  and  blafted 
 hopes,  the  generality  of  mankind  waile  their  lives. 
 
 ^he  hoary  fool^  who  many  days 
 
 Has  ftruggled  with  continual  forrow^ 
 Bjnews  his  hopeSy  and  blindly  lays 
 The  defp'rate  bet  upon  to-morrow^ 
 
 To-7norrow  comes  ;  Uis  noon^  'tis  night  5 
 This  day  like  all  the  former  flies  v 
 
 Tet  on  he  runs  to  feck  delight 
 
 To-?7iorrozVy  till  to-night  he  dies.  Prior, 
 
 H0WEVE.R,  this  caflle-building,  this  felf-delu- 
 fion,  is  more  excufable  in  the  firft  than  in  the  latter 
 part  of  life :  That  declining  feafon  ought  rather  to 
 l>e  fpent  in  a  ferious  refledion  on  paft  errors,  than 
 in  a  vifionary  expedation  of  new  enjoyments.  ■ 
 You  find  I  am  growing  grave,  why  don't  you  in- 
 terrupt me?—  What  pamphlet  is  that  lying  in 
 your  lap  ? 
 
 ARABELLA. 
 
 O,  a  very  moral  treatife,  call'd  the  'Toy-fhop.  If 
 I  did  not  refolve  on  a  thorough  reformation,  I 
 fliould  be  quite  angry  with  the  author,  for  placing 
 me  in  fuch  a  ridiculous  light  to  myfelf.  ^eny  is 
 quite  out  of  favour  *,  nor  has  my  footman  carried  a 
 compliment  to  any  lap-dog  of  quality  this  morn- 
 ing.   You  will  give  me  leave  to  read  a  fpeech 
 
 of  the  mailer  of  the  toy-lhop  on  this  fubjeifl. 
 
 Here'*^ 
 
i6       D  I  A  L  O  G.U  E  S. 
 
 Here* s  a  dog  now^  that  never  eat  but  upon  plate  or 
 china  \  nor  fet  his  foot  but  upon  a  carpet  or  a  cujhion. 
 Here*s  one  too  ;  this  dog  belonged  to  a  lady  of  as  great 
 beauty  and  fortune  as  any  in  England ;  he  was  her 
 fnoft  intimate  friend  and  particular  favourite  ;  and 
 upon  that  account  has  received  more  compliments^  more 
 refpeEf^  and  more  addreffes  than  a  firfi  minifier  offtate. 
 Here's  another^  which  was  doiibtlefs  a  dog  of  fingular 
 worth  and  great  i?nportance ;  Jtnce^  at  his  deaths  one 
 of  the  great  eft  families  in  the  kingdom  were  all  in 
 tears^  received  no  vifits  for  the  fpace  of  a  week^  but 
 Jhut  themfelves  up^  and  mourned  their  lofs  with  incon- 
 folable  forroWy  Ihis  dog,  while  he  liv*d^  either  for 
 contempt  of  his  perfon,  7iegle^  of  his  bufinefs^  or  faucy 
 and  impertinent  behaviours  in  their  attendance  on  him^ 
 had  the  honour  of  tur?nng  away  upwards  of  thirty  fer-^ 
 vants.  He  died  at  laft  of  a  cold  caught  by  following 
 one  of  the  maids  into  a  damp  room^  for  which  Jhe  loft 
 her  placsy  her  wages,  and  her  chara^er. 
 
 I  s  E  E,   brother,   you  are  deJighced  with'  this 
 fatire. 
 
 C  L  E  R  I  M  O  N  r. 
 
 Nor  can  you  be  angry,  my  dear  fifter,  to  find  this 
 folly  ridicul'd  in  a  manner  fo  genteel  and  fprightly. 
 ARABELLA, 
 
 I  A  M  rather  pleas'd.^ Aftcdation  is  more 
 
 eafily  cur'd  than  'nature.  This  is  a  folly  I  can  eafily 
 put  off.  I  was  only  a  mimick  to  Mifs  Modifh,  be- 
 ing unwilling  fne  fliould  outfliihe  me  in  any  part 
 of  a  fine  character.  She  lifp'd  fo  prettily,  and 
 talk*d  fuch  charming  nonfenfe  to  her  little  Shocks 
 that  it  rais'd  my  am.bition  to  equal  her  in  thofe'nice 
 accomplidiments.  But  1  was  never  (incere  in  my 
 civilities  to  lap-dogs  and  monkeys.  I  may  own  to 
 vou,  without  detriment  to  my  underftanding,  that 
 i  had  always  a  fccrec  contempt  for  the  whole  ani- 
 mal race. 
 
 Left  tinfinlfbW, 
 
 L  E  T- 
 
 5 
 
[  '7] 
 
 LETT 
 
 Person  of  your  merit.  Sir,  need  not 
 wonder  if  you  leave  unkoown  friends 
 in  all  company,  and  that  you  find  one 
 interefted  in  your  happinefs,  to  whom 
 you  are  almoft  a  flranger.  Some  time 
 fince  I  happen'd  to  be  one  of  the  company,  where 
 your  good  humour  and  wit  was  the  greateft  enter- 
 tainment: your  fentiments  were  juil:  and  agreeable 
 on  every  fubjed,  but  one,  and  that  (among  a  great 
 variety)  chancM  to  be  the  immortality  of  the  foul. 
 I  was  concern'd,  I  confefs,  to  hear  your  (in  every 
 thing  elfe  fo  reafonable)  employ  you  arguments 
 againft  the  dignity  of  human  nature,  and  the 
 brighteft  privilege  of  mankind-,  without  which  rea- 
 fon  is  our  greateft  curie,  an  infeparable  plague,  and 
 renders  our  lot  Icfs  happy  than  that  of  the  brute 
 creation,  who  purfue  pleafures  proper  to  their  facul- 
 ties', without  the  tormenting  remonftrances  of  con- 
 fcience. 
 
 What  advantage  can  you  men  of  pleafure  pro- 
 pofe,  in  divefting  yourfelves  and  the  red:  of  man- 
 kind of  this  privilege  of  immortality  ?  The  pro- 
 fped  perhaps  of  a  future  hell  may  moleil  your  tran- 
 
 C  quiliry: 
 
i8  LETTERS. 
 
 quility  :  But  after  all,  will  confidence  and  raillery 
 leffen  its  certainty  ?  Are  you  arriv'd  at  a  demon- 
 ftration  that  there  are  no  burning  lakes  to  punifh 
 the  vitious,  nor  celeftial  crowns  to  reward  the  vir- 
 tuous ?  Are  your  principles  grounded  on  unquefti- 
 onable  evidence  ?  Or  do  you  pretend  to  no  more 
 than  an  equal  hazard  that  things  may,  or  may  not 
 be  as  you  wifh  them  ?  Grant  but  this,  and  there  is 
 no  excufe  for  your  extravagance.     Were  a  future 
 flate  but  a  mere  pofTibility,  'twere  madnefs  to  flake 
 infinite  ages  of  blifs  againft  the  pleafures  of  a  day : 
 Even  that  fhort  time  is  more  than  you  can  fecure  ; 
 you  are  altogether  uncertain  of  the  next  moment's 
 fruition  of  thefe  trifles  you  value  fo  much  for  being 
 what  you  call  vifible  and  prefent  *,  and  of  this  you 
 are  as  uncertain,  as  you  think  the  pious  man  is  of 
 all  his  vifionary  hopes  and  fancy'd  paradife.  In  one 
 lenfe  yours  is  as  much  a  life  of  faith,  as  his;  for 
 whatever  you  boafl  of  the  prefent,  you  are  feldom 
 pleas'd   with  it ;  the  greateft  part  of  your  happi- 
 nefs,  as  well  as  his,  confifts  in  expeflation  and  di- 
 ftant  profpe(5ls.     Yet  the  good  man  has  this  ad- 
 vantage,   that  his  agreeable  reveries   will    laft  as 
 long  as  his  life  •,  and  death,  which  alone  can  rob 
 him  of  the  glorious  fidion,  puts  him  for  ever  out 
 of  a  capacity  of  lamenting  his  lofs :  While  the  li- 
 bertine's golden  dreams  are  perpetually  broken  and 
 interrupted ;  every  new  attainment  convinces  him 
 too  fadly  of  his  delufion  •,  fruitiori  diffolves  the  pleaf- 
 ing  error,  and  leaves  him  in  defpair  of  ever  reach- 
 ing that  point  of  happinefs  which  his  imagination 
 forms.     And  if  religion  is  a  delufion,  'tis  the  moft 
 lafting  and  fortunate  one  in    the  world.     But  if 
 there  are  indeed  fields  of  blifs  and  fhades  of  love, 
 infinite  pleafures  and  immortal  day,  you  men  of  the 
 world  will  find  you  have  made  a  fatal  bargain.  Or 
 fhould  all  thefe  fine  things  prove  the  tales  of  mer- 
 cenary priefts,  you  are  ftill  the  lofers  >  for  it  mufl 
 
 be 
 
LETTERS.  ig 
 
 be  acknowledged,  that  a  licentious  life  is  attended 
 \vith  greater  mortifications  than  a  religious  one. 
 How  eafy  are  all  the  difficulties  that  virtue  cxacls, 
 to  thofe  which  our  own  unbounded  palTions  impofe  1 
 The  moft  nice  and  refined  luxury  is  accompanied 
 "Vvith  exquiflte  vexation,  and  the  fofteil  idols  of  our 
 fenfe  are  our  greateft  plagues.  Thofe  toys,  the 
 women.  Sir,  that  you  and  1  fo  much  admire,  fofc 
 or  fevere,  are  our  nec^ffary  tormentors;  and  we  are 
 greater  fufferers  by  their  kindnefs  than  their  cruelty. 
 'Tis  true,  I  have  not  much  reafon  to  complain  of 
 their  favours,  njais^  Monfieury  vgus  etes  une  homme 
 fait  a  charmer  les  belles^  ^  jouir  les  bonnes  graces  des 
 femmes.  This  is  your  fnare,  and  that  which  damns 
 half  the  race  of  men.  Could  you  efcape  but  this, 
 you  might  yet  attain  the  skies,  and  bid  fair  for  a 
 celeftial  preferment.  Nor  need  it  coil  you  fo  dear, 
 as  wholly  to  renounce  the  charming  fex  ;  you  are 
 not  forbidden  an  honourable  and  lawful  engage- 
 ment, which  has  infinitely  more  charms  than  me 
 mercenary  carefTes  of  a  wh-^re.  To  forfeit  an  im- 
 mortal paradife  for  the  undiftinguifliing  favours  of 
 ah  impudent  coquet,  is  the  moft  defperate  mad- 
 nefs  -,  'tis  to  anticipate  the  torments  below,  and 
 double  one's  bwn  damnation. 
 
 Believe  me.  Sir,  I  have  not  written  this  fronl 
 an  enthufiaftic  zeal.  I  am  no  bigot,  nor  fanatic ; 
 and  if  you  knew  me,  you  would  eafily  take  my 
 word,  that  1  am  no  blind  votary  to  the  priefthood. 
 What  I  have  fa  id  is  from  a  generous  and  humane 
 fentiment,  with  a  defign  worthy  of  that  fincerity 
 and  friendfhip  which  one  man  of  honour  owes  an- 
 other. 1  beg  you  On  this  account  to  pardon  the: 
 length  and  freedom  of  my  letter ;  for  I  think  it 
 v^ould  be  no  ill- breeding  to  moleft  a  fine  gentle- 
 man,  if  he  had  a  mind  to  damn  himfelf.  However, 
 I'll  impoie  no  longer  on  your  patience,  but  leavd 
 you  with  this  quotation  from  one  of  the  greateft 
 
 G  2  men 
 
20 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 men  in  , the  world,  Monfieur  1^ a sc^l  centre  I* indif- 
 ference des  Athees. 
 
 E  N'T  RE  nous,  le  del,  &  Penfer,  ou  le  neant,  it 
 n^y  a  que  la  vie,  qui  eft  la  chofe  du  monde  la  plus  fra- 
 gile \  ^  la  del  yi^ctant  -pas  certainement  'pour  ceux  qui 
 douhtent  fi  letir  ame  eft  immortelle,  ils  n^ant  a  attendre 
 que  fenfer  ou  le  neant.  Faifons  tant  que  nous  voudrons 
 les  braves,  voild  la  fin  qui  attend  la  plus  belle  vie  du 
 monde,  ^  C*eft  en  vain  quails  detour nent  leur  penfee  de 
 cette  eternlte  qui  les  attend,  comme  s^ils  la  pouvoient 
 aneantir  en  ?2'y  penfant  point.  Elle  fubfifte  malgre 
 eux,  elle  s*avance,  ^  la  rnort  qui  la  doit  ouvrir,  les 
 mettra  dans  peu  les  terns  dans  l^ horrible  neceffite  d'etre 
 eternellejuent  ou  aneaniis,  ou  malheureux, 
 
 I  am,  Sir, 
 
 with  all  imaginable  fincerity, 
 your  hum.ble  fervant, 
 
 Carlos, 
 
 ^  '*cl  n  m  ^  i^f  i^.  .^ »%  ^i  .^  .n  5  i^ '  .*?,  i^.  ^ .%  i^.  »•?*.  i^,  }^.  i^  i^  **^.  .^ 
 
 LETTER    11. 
 
 Alcander  to  Clerimont. 
 
 I  Must  reproach  your  unaccoimtable  delay  in  an 
 affair  of  fuch  importance,  as  I  intruded  you 
 with,  and  which  you  are  engag'd  to  accomplifh, 
 or  lofe  your  life  in  the  attempt.  And  what  is  your 
 life,  that  you  fhould  deliberate  on  fuch  a  glorious 
 occafion  ?  What  is  your  life,  that  you  fhould  bal- 
 lance  it  againft  your  honour  and  conscience  ?  againfl 
 the  prefent  flifety  and  perhaps  immortal  happinefs 
 of  the  fair  Lucilia?  Is  it  fuch  a  glorious  thing  to 
 breathe,  to  eat,  to  deep,  that  you  fhould  prolong 
 
 your 
 
LETTERS.  21 
 
 your  hours  to  To  little  purpofe,  and  lengthen  your 
 exiftence  for  fiich  inferior  ends  ? 
 
 You  can  but  die,  my  Lord,  and  confidering 
 death  abftradly  as  the  period  of  human  a6tion,  a 
 violent  or  natural  death  is  juft  the  fame  ;  but  con- 
 fidering death  in  another  relation,  a  man  that  falls 
 a  facrifice  in  the  defence  of  virtue,  and  the  caufe 
 of  truth,  has  infinitely  the  advantage  of  one  who 
 refigns  his  breath  to  the  neceility  .of  fome  fatal 
 difeafe. 
 
 Let  the  event  be  what  it  will,  you  are  ,abfo- 
 Jutely  oblig'd  to  attempt  the  refcue  of  my  fair  pro- 
 felyte  from  the  tyranny  of  her  bigotted  and  fuper- 
 ftitious  guardian,  and  to  carry  her  into  fome  pro- 
 teftant  country.  If  you  fhould  abandon  her  in  this 
 exigence,  fhe  will  be  reduced  either  to  deny  the 
 faith  to  which  her  foul  affents,  and  hazard  her  eter- 
 nal ruin  •,  or,  by  confefiingthe  truth,  toexpofe  her- 
 felf  to  the  fury  of  blind  id  zeal. 
 
 To  this,  you  know%  I  fell  a  victim,  and  that  in 
 the  moft  bafe  and  treacherous  manner.  'Twas,  I 
 confefs,  my  Lord,  with  the  utmoft  reluctance,  th,at 
 I  accompanied  you  in  your  travels  to  Rome^  and 
 nothing  but  the  abfolute  commands  of  my  father 
 could  have  compelFd  me  to  it.  Such  an  abhor- 
 rence had  I  for  holy  fraud  and  tyranny,  fuch  a 
 contempt  for  the  folemn  fopperies  of  the  popiih 
 religion,  that  I  knew  to  what  the  opennefs  of  my 
 temper  would  expofe  me.  I  had  ballanced  the 
 hazard,  and  refolv'd  upon  no  confideration  to  part 
 with  my  integrity.  I  was  unpractis'd  in  the  arts 
 of  evafion  \  my  tongue  always  fpoke  the  language 
 of  my  hearty,  and  would  not  for  all  the  fun  en- 
 compafl  have  utterr'd  a  known  fldfliood.  In  the 
 common  forms  of  converfation,  I  never  deviated 
 from  the  rules  of  fincerity  ;  but  where  religion  was 
 concern'd,  I  would  not  have  purchas'd  ,life  with  all 
 its  joys,  by  the  fhadow  of  a  lie,  by  the  leali  equi- 
 
 C  3  vocation. 
 
zi  LET  T  E  R  S. 
 
 vocation.  This  was  the  refolution  I  made,  at  my 
 entrance  on  the  popifh  dominions.  You  was  often 
 an  uneafy  witnefs  of  the  hazard  I  ran,  by  fhewing 
 an  open  contempt  of  their  idolatrous  proceflions. 
 Yet,  perhaps,  I  was  to  blame,  in  treating  their  fa- 
 cred  vanities  with  an  oifenfive  levity,  when  a  fe- 
 rious  convidion  had  been  more  fuccefsfuL  But  I 
 could  not  view  their  confecrated  trifles  with  any 
 manner  of  gravity,  nor  conceal  my  contempt  of 
 their  holy  legends  :  Nor  durft  1  incur  the  guilt  of 
 fuch  dillimulation  as  I  faw  pradis'd  by  my  own 
 nation.  I  had  many  prefages  of  the  fatal  event, 
 while  I  fecretly  dt?itd  hell  and  all  its  agents,  their 
 flames,  their  racks,  and  every  infernal  engine.  A 
 thoufand  illuflrious  v/irneJTes  had  trod  the  arduous 
 path,  and  led  the  v/ay  to  glory.  I  rather  courted 
 than  avoided  the  happy  deftiny,  and  fpoke  and 
 adted  with  the  fame  liberty  as  I  would  have  done 
 in  a  proteftant  country. 
 
 The  freedom,  however,  which  I  took  in  conver- 
 fation  with  the  Cardinal  ***  ,  was  with  the  greateft 
 fecurity.  My  frequent  vifits  to  that  generous  man 
 gave  me  an  eafy  accefs  to  his  beautiful  niece,  who 
 from  the  gentlenefs  of  her  uncle's  difpoficion  found 
 more  liberty  than  the  //^//'c^/^cufcomsallow'd.  Frorn 
 the  moment  I  faw  her  I  lov*d  her,  and  could  not 
 but  obferve  the  attention  with  which  ihe  liflen'd  to 
 my  difcourfes  of  a  religious  nature,  with  a  freedom 
 becoming  the  innocence  of  her  thoughts.  She  gave 
 me  frequent  opportunities  of  converfing  with  her  : 
 By  this  I  difcover'd  that  i\\t  virtues  of  her  mind 
 anfwer'd  all  the  promife  of  her  face,  and  animated 
 her  outward  form  with  fuch  unrival'd  elegance  and 
 beauty,  that  even  I,  who  haye  feen  celeftial  per- 
 fedion,  flill  think  her  lovely.  But  'tis  her  hea- 
 venly difpofition  that  has  kindled  that  divine  af- 
 fedlion,  which  I  dare  avow  in  thefe  ferene  and  holy 
 regions,   where   nothing   impure  fhall  ever  enter. 
 
 She 
 
LETTERS.  23 
 
 She  is  not  more  the  care  of  her  guardian  angel  than 
 mine. 
 
 As  Heaven  gave  my  arguments  fuccefs,  and 
 brought  the  gentle  convert  from  the  darknefs  in 
 which  fhe  was  educated,  I  have  a  particular  con- 
 cern to  fecure  her  tender  mind  from  any  tempta- 
 tion to  a  relapfe  into  her  firit  fuperfticion.  Her 
 own  fears,  with  my  importunity  and  afifurance  of  the 
 moll  honourable  protection,  prevail'd  with  her  to 
 confent  to  the  plan  I  had  laid  for  her  fecurity  ; 
 which  I  entrufted  to  your  care,  when  I  found  the 
 wound  was  mortal,  which  I  receiv'd  from  the  trea- 
 cherous fryar,  at  the  entrance  of  a  monaftery. 
 
 Believe  me,  my  Lord,  your  confcience,  your  ho- 
 nour is  engag'd  to  difcharge  the  trufl  I  deliver'd  to 
 you  with  my  expiring  breath  ;  and  I  renew  my 
 importunity,  that  you  would  proted  the  helplefs 
 maid,  and  tranfport  her  to  fome  place  where  fhe 
 may  enjoy  liberty,  fafe  from  the  terrors  of  the  in- 
 fernal Inquifition. 
 
 She  is  worth  the  care  of  angels,  and  'twill  be  a 
 noble  fatisfadtion  to  your  mind,  when  you  reflect 
 that  you  have  proteded  fuch  virtue.  Thefe  are 
 adlions  which  mufl:  meet  with  approbation  in  the 
 empyrean  courts,  and  are  fubjeds  worthy  the  ad- 
 miration of  the  fplendid  focieties  of  heaven.  Thele 
 beneficent  fpirits  intereft  themfelves  in  the  affairs 
 of  mortals,  and  give  every  generous  attempt  its 
 juft  and  full  applaufe.     Adieu. 
 
 Alcander, 
 
 C  4  LET. 
 
14      'LETTERS. 
 
 LETTER     III. 
 
 T^o  the  Hon^'^'  Mrs.  — ~ 
 
 MadaiUy  i%7. 
 
 Could  not  hold  my  pen  to  write  to  any  per- 
 Ton  in  the  world  belides  your  Ladyfhip ;  but 
 I  am  fo  tranlported  to  hear  from  you,  and  have 
 fuch  a  mind  to  fay  fomething  to  you,  that  my  foul 
 exerts  its  utmoft  force,  as  refolv'd  to  conquer  the 
 
 weaknefs  of  my  body -.    I  have  been  a  long 
 
 time  hovering  on  the  very  edges  of  the  immaterial 
 world  ;  and  tho'  the  profpe6t  look'd  all  dark  and 
 formid'able,  yet  my  foul  could  not  fancy  herftlf  on 
 the  very  precipice  of  the  invifible  world,  and  ceafe 
 to  be  inquifitive,  any  more  than  fhe  could  ceafe  to. 
 be  a  foul.  My  curiofity  was  fo  great  to  know  how 
 unembodied  fpirits  a6l,  and  what  regions  they  in- 
 habit, that  I  could  willingly  have  taken  a  leap  in 
 the  dark  to  be  fatisfy'd. 
 
 We  fee  the  waves ^  and  hear  the  billows  roar^ 
 The  dajhing  r.ocks^  and  hollow  whifiling  wind, 
 
 ^Tis  a  wide  leap  to  that  dark^  dreadful  fhore. 
 And  none  come  hack  to  tell  us  what  they  find. 
 
 I  CAM  hold  up  my  head  no  longer,  but  yet. 
 Madam.,  I'll  flay  to  tell  you  (for  perhaps  I  may 
 never  write  to  you  more)  that  the  cold  embraces  of 
 death  fhall  never  freeze  up  the  kindnefs  1  have  for 
 you  :  No,  the  ficred  flame  ihall  glow  in  my  bread 
 to  eternity.  I'll  be  your  guardian  angel,  and  leave 
 paradife  to  converfe  with  you  ;  and  when  fate  fhall 
 call  you  away,  I'll  be  the  firft  kind  fpirit  that 
 Ihall  greet  yours,  and  with  a  thoufand  celeftial  fongs 
 welcome  your  arrival  to  the  bleft  land  of  love :  and 
 to  indear  myfelf  the  more  to  you^ 
 
 My, 
 
LETTERS.  25 
 
 My  foul  I  will  fo  much  conform  to  thine^ 
 
 Thou  farce  fhalt  know  thy  own  bright  foul  from  mine. 
 
 And  now.  Madam,  farewel  ;  if  I  die  I  fhall  re- 
 fign  my  breath  as  calmly  as  infants  fall  afleep,  and 
 with  a  fpiric  becoming 
 
 Tour  friend  and  fervant, 
 
 P.S.  'Tis  too  much,  that  Mr. fhould  be 
 
 concern'd  for  my  illnefs.  My  fervice  to  him,  and 
 tell  him  I'll  find  him  out  among  his  brother  angels, 
 and  entertain  him  with  my  longs  in  requital. 
 
 LETTER    IV. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 
 JUST  as  your  letter  came,  I  was  going  to  take 
 the  air,  inftead  oi  Jleel^  for  the  Ipleen,  as  you 
 call  it ;  but  I  rather  flatter  myfelf,  that  this  chagrin 
 is  the  pure  effed  of  reafon  and  refiedion.  I  am 
 tir'd  with  whatever  I  have  yet  enjoyed  in  the  world,, 
 and  exped  no  greater  fatisfaftions  here.  And,  for 
 my  part,  I  can't  amufe  myfelf  with  trifles,  nor  re- 
 lifh  thofe  infipid  things,  that,  with  the  greatell  pare 
 of  the  world,  pafs  for  the  very  efl^entials  of  happi- 
 nefs ;  and  were  I  never  to  enjoy  pleafures  more  fub- 
 lime  and  rational,,  methinks,  I  could  this  mohient 
 throw  up  my  title  to  immortality.  1  am  cloy'd 
 with  all  the  impertinences  that  attend  human  life, 
 and  long  to  know  what  novelties  the  inviflble  re- 
 gions have  to  entertain  me  with.  I  can  find  no 
 gufl  in  any  thing  but  the  thoughts  of  being  plung'd 
 in  immortal  pleafures,  and  being  rcgai'd  with  infi- 
 nite beatitudes. 
 
 I    HOPE, 
 
26  LETTERS. 
 
 I  HOPE,  Madam,  i  need  not  aflv  your  pardon 
 for  growing  ferious  on  a  fubjed  Jike  this ;  fince  to 
 be  otherwife,  when  1  believe  myfelf  upon  the  very 
 borders  of  eternity,  would  be  a  levity  that  my 
 own  reafon  would  reproach  me  with  for  ever. 
 
 You  may  call  it  fpleen,  or  fancy,  or  what  you 
 pleafe ;  but  I  think  it  more  reafonable  to  believe  it 
 the  impulfe  of  fome  friendly  fpirit,  to  prepare  me 
 for  the  important  part  I  am  fhortly  to  adt. 
 
 If  you  never  hear  from  me  again,  be  affur'd,  I 
 fiiall  carry  my  affedion  for  you  to  the  regions  of 
 peace  and  amity,  and  cherifh  the  gentle  difpofition 
 till  we  meet  again. 
 
 And  if  on  earth  we  tafte  Juch  fweds  of  love^ 
 How  boundlefs  will  its  raptures  he  above  ? 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 My  fervice  to  Mr. ;  hetalk'd  of  reading 
 
 Cbarnock's  fermons  ;  but  not  knowing  whether  he*ll 
 
 carry  them  to  L ,  I  did  not  fend  them  now  ;  but 
 
 tell  him,  ifhe  will,  he  may  fend  for  them  to-morrow, 
 and  keep  them  as  long  as  he  pleafes.  'Tis  pity, 
 when  there's  fo  much  divinity  in  the  world,  people 
 ihould  be  forc'd  to  read  Ludlow's  Memoirs  on  Sun- 
 days. 
 
 1  am,  tfr. 
 
 L  E  T  T  E  R    V, 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 1697. 
 
 WELL,  Madam,  you  fhall  e*en  have  it  your 
 own  way  :  I  have  the  fpleen  ;  for  what  elfe 
 could  put  fuch  odd  conceits  into  my  head  as  thefe, 
 that  I  am  mortal,  that  the  date  of  my  life  is  un- 
 
 certain. 
 
LETTERS.  27 
 
 certain,  and  that  perhaps  I  may  never  fee  another 
 rifing  fqn,  or  before  the  clofe  of  another  evening 
 
 My  foul  may  leave  this  tenement  of  clay^ 
 And  to  an  unknown  fomewhere  wing  its  way, 
 
 Mr.  NoRRis. 
 
 Future  fecurities  are  indeed  very  impertinent  cares, 
 and  a  box  of  pills  is,  without  doubt,  an  excelknc 
 remedy  for  fuch  melancholy  whimfies  as  thele. 
 
 But  without  raillery,  Madam,  fliould  I  recover 
 piy  health,  and  get  rid  of  thefe  dangerous  fymp- 
 toms,  you  cannot  tax  me  with  fjperflition,  for 
 making  the  beft  provifion  I  can  in  a  matter  of  fo 
 vafl  confequence.  While  people  are  in  their  righc 
 fenfes,  it  cannot  be  an  indifrerent  cafe  to  them, 
 whether  they  are  to  be  happy  or  miferable  in  an 
 endlefs  duration. 
 
 Not  that  I  think  it  neceflary  to  a  future  hap- 
 pinefs,  to  qqit  all  the  innocent  enjoyments  of  Jife, 
 or  that  I  am  contrading  fuch  intimacies  with  cele- 
 ftial  beings,  as  to  grow  indifferent  to  my  earthly 
 acquaintance.  I  am  not  yet  fo  mortify'd  as  you 
 imagine  to  human  pafiions.  There  is  an  eternal 
 propenfity  in  my  foul  to  \oyq  and  beneficence :  I 
 receiv'd  the  generous  principle  with  the  breath  oi 
 life,  and  find  it  infeparable  from  my  exiftencej  nor 
 can  time  or  diftance  blot  from  my  memory  thb 
 intervals  of  pleafure  I  have  enjoy 'd  in  your  con- 
 verfation. 
 
 But  I  have  no  more  to  fay  to  your  Ladyfhip  on 
 this  fubje6l,  for  I  don't  defire  to  engage  you  againil 
 me  too  j  therefore  I  defire  your  leave,  Madam,  to 
 
 fay  the  reft  to  Mr.' for  I  have  recolleded 
 
 myfeJf  now. 
 
 Sir,  I  am  unwilling  to  lofe  an  opportunity  of 
 telling  you,  that  my  inclinations  to  folicude  are  nei- 
 ther the  effe^ls  of  melancholy,  or  ill-nature,  or  the 
 
 narrow 
 
28  LETTERS. 
 
 narrow  principle  of  believing  I  v/as  born  wholly  for 
 myfelf  i  much  lefs  do  they  arife  from  any  affeded 
 delicacy,  or  ambition  of  being  thought  better  and 
 wifer  than  other  people.  I  afpire  to  no  charader 
 above  that  of  a  reafonable  creature.  But  you  know. 
 Sir,  there  are  nobler  inducements  to  retirement  than 
 thefe  J  and  if  I  tell  you,  that  I  chufe  it  as  the  greateft 
 improvement  of  my  reafon  and  morals,  and  the 
 beft  method  I  can  find  to  be  happy,  I  hope  you'll 
 grant  I  have  given  you  a  very  fair  account  of  thofe 
 refolutions,  which  you  are  pleas'd  to  think  fo  fan- 
 taftic  and  unreafonable^  I  confefs,  Sir,  one  may 
 think  in  a  crowd,  and  make  fome  imperfed  rejec- 
 tions *,  but  'tis  alone  that  you  form  your  moft  exu6t 
 and  impartial  notions.  'Tis  then  you  examine  vul- 
 gar prejudices,  and  rejedl  the  little  principles  of 
 the  bigotted  and  fuperftitious ;  'tis  then  you  fortify 
 yourfelf  againft  the  tyranny  of  cuftom,  and  the 
 impofitions  of  perfons,  who  do  a  thoufand  unrea- 
 fonable  things  themfelves,  and  gravely  tell  you,  'tis 
 finguhirity  and  ill-breeding  not  to  imitate  them. 
 
 But  then  you  tell  me,  'tis  pofiible  to  tl]ink  too 
 much.  This,  Sir,  from  you  is  an  extraordinary 
 caution  ;  yet  I  as  little  fear  being  too  thoughtful, 
 as  being  too  wife  or  good  :  I  am  fure  the  more  we 
 exert  the  force  of  our  underftanding,  the  more  clear 
 ^d  fublime  our  ideas  are.  And  fuppofe  the  worft, 
 that  thefe  intenfe  operations  of  *the  mind  fhould 
 waite  the  fpirits,  'tis  in  doing  the  bufinefs  of  life 
 apace  *,  and  when  our  parts  are  aded,  we  are  ready 
 to  quit  the  ftage.  Nor  is  it  a  long,  but  happy,  life 
 which  I  would  chufe ;  and  I  am  convinc'd  that  pri- 
 vacy is  the  moil  likely  way  to  make  mine  fo. 
 
 • Nor /er  by  me  Jhall  you^ 
 
 Tou  of  all  names  the  fweeteft  and  the  hefty 
 Tqu  miifesy  hooks,  and  lihcrty^  and  reft^ 
 
 Tou 
 
LETTERS.  29 
 
 T021  fountains^  fields^  and  floods^  forfaken  be^ 
 As  long  as  life  itfelf  forfakes  not  me, 
 
 Cowley. 
 
 Here  my  hours  are  abfolutely  at  my  own  difpofalj 
 nor  am  I  oblig'd  to  devote  any  part  of  my  time, 
 (that  invaluable  time  which  flies,  and  never  again 
 returns)  to  trifling  and  ceremonies.  Here  I  need 
 not  flatter  the  vain,  nor  be  tir'd  with  the  imper- 
 tinent, nor  be  confin'd  to  a  certain  fet  of  inflpid 
 fubjeds,  that  have  been  drain'd  a  thoufand  times 
 over.  But  here  my  thoughts  can  entertain  me  with 
 endlefs  variety  ,  and  when  I  am  weary  of  refleding 
 on  the  impertinent  hurry  that  mortals  make  in 
 pafTing  to  their  graves,  the  fordid  defigns  of  fome, 
 and  the  fplendid  follies  of  others  -,  with  the  laft 
 contempt  I  e'en  bid  mankind  farewel,  and  launch- 
 ing out  into  the  other,  entertain  myfelf  with  much 
 more  noble  and  lafl.ing  fpeculations. 
 
 /  view  the  fpangled  wonders  of  the  fky  ; 
 Where  I  ohferve^  with  an  admiring  fenfe^ 
 Thar  motion^  magnitude  and  influence. 
 Ranging  thro''  heaven's  vaft  traEi^  methinksy  I  hear 
 Th^  harmonious  mufic  cf  each  heavenly  fphere^ 
 Swarms  of  new  worlds  difcover^  and  furvey 
 The  fparkling  glories  of  the  7nilky  way. 
 Now  thro'  th'  empyrean  heaven  I  freely  rove^ 
 And  feaft  my  fenfes  on  the  throne  of  Jove, 
 View  thofe  eternal  manfiom^  where  the  hlefb 
 Are  rapt  with  joys  too  great  to  he  exprefh. 
 
 I  HAVE  done.  Sir,  now,  which  I  believe  you'll 
 think  very  gopd  news. 
 
 I  am,  ^c. 
 
 LET- 
 
so  LETTERS. 
 
 LETTER    VL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 IReceiv'd  your  Ladyfhip's  long  letter,  and 
 another  fince  ;  they  were  both  extremely  wel- 
 come, but  how  welcome  I  want  words  to  tell  you. 
 According  to  your  Ladyfhip's  order,  I  writ  a  let- 
 ter, and  lent  it  to  Frome^io  enquire  for  fomebody 
 that  went  to  Sherborn  Fair^  but  could  h^ar  of  none, 
 that  defign'd  to  go.  However,  if  they  had,  I 
 fhoiild  have  order'd  the  bearer  to  have  left  it  at 
 philofopher  F(?.v's  fhop,  to  have  fav'd  Michael  a 
 few  fleps.  For  the  truth  of  it  is,  your  Lady  (hip 
 had  fet  him  a  pretty  odd  kind  of  a  tafk  -,  and  I 
 warrant  he  ask'd  every  fellow  that  flood  with  his 
 mouth  open,  his  back  againfl  a  poft,  and  one  of 
 his  legs  crofs'd  over  his  ftaff,  whether  he  liv'd  at 
 Frome?  and  if  he  did,   whether  he  had  no  letter 
 
 about  him  for  his  lady  ? However,  the  worft  of 
 
 it  was,  Michael  loft  his  labour  ;  for  which  I  am  very 
 forry,  and  Ihall  never  be  eafy,  till  I  think  your 
 Ladyfliip  has  receivM  this,  to  inform  you  that  I 
 was  not  only  difappointed  then  of  fending  to  ^her- 
 hovHy  but  likewife  the  Saturday  after  to  Bruton.  For 
 I  am  vain  enough  to  meafure  your  Ladyfhip's 
 friendfhip  by  my  ovvn  •,  and  if  I  am  deluded,  I  would 
 not  be  undeceivM  for  the  world  •,  no,  I'd  rather  in- 
 dulge the  bleit  fidion  till  I  die.  And  now  I  think 
 of  dying,  I  dcfire  your  Ladyfhip  to  ipeak  to  Mr. — 
 that,  when  he  prays  for  long  life  for  himfelf  and  his 
 friends,  he'd  be  pleas'd  to  leave,  me  out  of  his  peti- 
 tions, for  I  don't  intend  to  fland  to  them  ;  no,  nor 
 to  your  Ladyililp's  neither,  tho'  I  muft  confefs  fixty 
 years  is  a  more  reafonable  time  than  an  hundred. 
 However,  Til  add  my  prayers  to  your  Ladyfhips^ 
 
 for 
 
LETTERS.  3f 
 
 for  double  the  time  for  you.  You  are  hnppy.  Ma- 
 dam, and  will  be  fo,  I  hope,  when  I  am  Jodg'd 
 in  a  filent  grave  *,  therefore  you  may  wifh  for  long 
 life ;  but 
 
 i'hey  merit  not  to  live  at  all, 
 IFho  care  to  live  unbleft. 
 
 I  FANCY  I  have  more  news  to  tell  you  befldes 
 this  \  and  fome  of  it  is,  that  Sthud  was  here  yefier- 
 day,  and  lodg'd  here  one  night.  He's  fet  up  for 
 a  quack  now,  and  keeps  all  the  markets.  Dinah 
 got  a  copy  of  verfes  from  him,  that  was  to  be  fent 
 to  his  miftrefs ;  and  to  give  you  a  tafte  of  his  poe- 
 try^  V\\  repeat  two  of  his  verfes  to  your  Ladyfhip, 
 
 ^hen  do  hut  thinks  dear  Madam ^  how  I  fmart^ 
 When  all  your  darts  ftick  hijfing  in  my  heart  f 
 
 Much  fuch  another  piece  of  poetry  came  yefler-^ 
 day  to  kifs  my  fair  hands;    'twas  brought   by  a 
 man  in  a  blue  coat,  the  colour  of  your  livery.  He 
 would  deliver  the  letter  himfelf,  and  before  I  open'd 
 it,  I  ask'd  him  whence  it  came?  he  told  me  from 
 
 L ;  fo  I  broke  it  open  with  all  the  impatience 
 
 of  love.  The  hand  was  very  much  like  your  La- 
 dyfhip's,  and  before  I  look'd  on  the  letter  that 
 came  with  the  poem,  I  fell  to  reading  the  verfes, 
 and  wonder'd  at  my  heart  what  had  put  your  La- 
 dyfhip into  fuch  an  unlucky  verfifying  humour; 
 for  I  mud  needs  fay,  that  I  did  not  like  it,  no, 
 tho'  I  thought  it  your  Ladyfhlp's ;  and  if  any  thing 
 could  have  made  me  partial,  that  would.  But  I 
 had  not  read  much  of  the  poem  before  I  had  the 
 curiofity  to  look  over  your  letter  (as  I  then  thought 
 it)  but  when  I  found  a  gentleman's  name  fubfcrib'd 
 to  it  (tho'  I  neither  knew,  nor  car'd  a  ftraw  who 
 the  gentleman  was)  ip'put  me  into  a  rapture,  and  I 
 began  to  thank  thc*^ftars  that  your  Ladyfhip  was 
 
 (liil 
 
3^  LETTERS. 
 
 ftill  in  your  wits.  And  becaufe  you  fhalj  pardon 
 thefe  impudenc  thoughts  of  mine,  fee  how  the 
 mighty  bard  begins: 
 
 TVhen  Ver  hsga7t  to  peep  from  ether^j  eoafts 
 On  the  terraqueous  globe,  and  numerous  bofis 
 Of  arid,  puddling  objeols  all  around 
 Encompajfing  the  frozen  grounds 
 
 ril  (hew  it  you,  if  I  don't  die  of  a  broken  heart 
 before  I  fee  you  again  :  But  you  fliall  have  a  little 
 more  of  it  now. 
 
 Lo !  Philomela  does  prepare  to  fwg 
 Her  warbling  anthems  to  the  joyful  fprlng. 
 
 She  peeps  her  radiant  head 
 
 Up  from  her  grafs- green  bed^ 
 And  among  circumambient  notes, 
 She^s  known  from  all  their  charming  throats.^  Sec* 
 
 Poor  Pegafus  I  thou  wail  never  fo  wretchedly  rid 
 before,  except  when  Sbud  got  altride  thee. 
 
 I  THINK,  it  will  be  convenient  to  leave  room  to 
 fubfcribe  myfelf 
 
 Ihiry  &CC, 
 
 LETTER    VII. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 IF  you  knew  the  fentiments  of  my  heart,  you 
 would  find  no  reafon  to  complain  of  me.  Can 
 you  think  me  fo  flupid,  as  not  to  prefer  fuch  con- 
 verfation  as  yours  to  mufmg  away  my  hours  in  a 
 chamber,  if  I  really  thought  myfelf  fit  for  fociety? 
 
 f  but 
 
LETTERS.  33 
 
 buc  my  foul  is  perfedly  untun'd,  and  you  have 
 more  reafon  to  pity  than  reproach  me.  You  may 
 imagine,  that  converfmg  with  a  man  of  Mr.  Rowe's 
 elegant  tafte  and  good  fenfe,  mud  have  given  me 
 a  perfedl  difguft  to  all  the  fociety  this  country  af- 
 fords, I  own  it  has  had  that  effed:,  and  I  love  the 
 town  very  well :  but  a  gloomy  turn  of  thought 
 gives  me  fuch  an  averfion  to  company,  that  all  the 
 importunity  of  Mr.  Rowe's  relations  cannot  make 
 me  refolve  to  go  back  to  them  ;  tho'  I  have  an 
 affecftion  for  them  more  tender  than  all  the  ties  of 
 nature. 
 
 I  am  extremely  pleas'd  with  the  fine  charaflers 
 
 the  world  gives  of  Lady- and  Lady :  How 
 
 much  mult  you  merit,  whofe  example  has  given 
 fuch  perfe6b  patterns  of  virtue  to  the  world !  I  never 
 read  the  Spe5fator^  but  I  apply  all  his  charadlers  of 
 a  fine  woman  to  you.  I  don't  ufe  to  make  fpeeches 
 of  this  kind,  you  know,  therefore  you  may  depend 
 «n  the  fi nee  rity  of. 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 
 Toury  &c. 
 
 P.  S.  I  hope  by  this  time  you  have  procured 
 Dr.  Scoi*^  works  j  for  I  am  fure  you'll  be  extremely 
 pleas'd  in  reading  them.  I  read  lately,  in  one  of 
 his  books,  a  difcourfe  call'd  Chrift^s  regal  a5fs ; 
 where  he  treats  of  the  lafl:  judgment  in  fuch  a  fur- 
 prizing  manner,  that  no  poetical  defcription  can 
 go  beyond  it.  I  know  you  will  be  tranfported 
 wi:h  it,  and  I  fhall  fcarce  enjoy  myfelf  till  you 
 have  read  it.  'Tis  in  the  fecond  volume  of  his 
 Chrijiian  life.  Pray  make  me  eafy,  and  read  it  as 
 foon  as  you  can. 
 
 Vol.  II,  D  L  E  T- 
 
34  LETTERS. 
 
 LETTER     VIIL 
 
 To  the  f mm. 
 
 1 71 7. 
 
 Y  letters  ought  to  be  calTd  epiftles  from  the 
 dead  to  the  living,  for  I  know  nothing  re- 
 lating to  this  world,  to  entertain  my  furviving 
 friends  with  ;  nor  are  people  very  fond  of  keeping 
 a  correfpondence  with  ghofts  and  phantoms,  or 
 receiving  intelligences  from  another  world  •,  and  as 
 there  are  no  fnades  in  thefe  defolate  regions  of  greater 
 Gonfequence  than  myfeff,  nothing  happens  remark- 
 able enough  to  bear  a  recital.  When  i  was  alive, 
 I  never  was  very  fond  of  talking  of  myfelf ;  but 
 being  the  grcateft  novelty  in  this  place,  I  am  now 
 forc'd  upon  the  fubjecfl,  for  want  of  fomething  more 
 confiderable.  'Tis  pofTible,  I  find,  to  be  happy  in 
 th'^  abfence  of  all  that  people  call  amufement  and' 
 diverfion.  When  the  mind  is  in  a  fituation  fuperior 
 to  the  changing  fcenes  below  the  fun,  in  purfuit  of 
 boundlefs  and  immortal  blifs,  the  foul  with  a  noble 
 freedom  afcends  the  celeflial  height.^,  in  fearch  of 
 its  great  original,  -the  fountain  of  its  exiflence,  and 
 centre  of  all  its  hopes. 
 
 All  other  joys  are  v'lfwnary  hl'ifiy 
 But  here  is  all  fubfiantial  ecftacy. 
 
 But  w^ere  thefe  <jay  fpeculations  a  delufion,  let  me 
 be  thus  deceiv'd,  till  death  fliall  end  the  pleafing 
 dream.  Vvere  the  Chriflian  heaven  as  great  a  fable 
 as  the  poets  Elyfium^  'tis  a  fl^ble  fo  well  contriv'd, 
 that  r  would  not  exchange  it  for  the  gloomy  fcheme. 
 of  the  mod:  figacious  free-thinker  :  rather  let  me  in- 
 dulge the  charming  delufion,  and  entertain  myfelf 
 with  the  tranfporting  fiftion,  till  that  and  my  exift- 
 eace  meet  their  final  period. 
 
 If 
 
LETTERS.  35 
 
 If  I  liv'd  among  mortals,  I  fliould' certainly 
 
 know  how  to  direct  to  Lady- ;  but  being 
 
 in  a  ftate  of  feperate  exiftence,  this  ignorance  is 
 excufable:  Yet  whether  I  am  dead  or  alivCj  I  am 
 always. 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 
 Tour,  Sec, 
 
 LETTER     IX. 
 
 To  the  fojm. 
 
 Madam^  1720. 
 
 IGan't  forbear  exprefling  my  concern  for  you 
 under  this  fevere  afflidlion  of  the  death  of  my 
 
 Lady ■,  'Tis  impertinent  to  reafon,  and  againft 
 
 the  di6tates  of  nature,  or  elfe  you  might  fatisfy 
 yourfelf  with  the  extraordinary  character  fhe  has  lefc 
 behind  her,  and  her  reft  from  the  misfortunes  of  life^ 
 
 ^hou  heft  of  all  thy  [ex !  ifnpiety 
 
 Itfelf  would  drop  a  facred  tear  on  thee  s  ' 
 
 Had  fav ages  thy  gentle  afpe^i  viewed ^ 
 
 To  foftnefs  all  their  rage  had  beenfuhdu*d. 
 
 My  concern  is  too  fincere  and  tender,  to  fay  any 
 more  upon  this  fubjedl. 
 
 I  a?n^  &c. 
 
 D  2  LET- 
 
36  LETTER  S. 
 
 LETTER     L 
 
 "To  the  Ho7iourable  Mrs.  — 
 
 Madam  ^  171 2, 
 
 1  Should  be  very  happy.  If  I  could  perfwadc 
 myfelf  that  you  can  be  half  fo  fenfible  of  the 
 want  of  my  company,  as  I  am  of  the  lofs  of  yours: 
 and  I  certainly  make  my  felf  a  greater  compliment 
 than  I  do  you,  when  I  tell  you,  that  I  find  your 
 early  wit  and  pretty  turn  of  thought  perfe<R:ly  agree- 
 able and  entertaining. 
 
 Im)'  growing  wit  JJj all  gain  imrmrtal  fame^ 
 jind  ev'ry  mufe  Jhall  learn  Mirtilla'i  naine  ^ 
 Nor  lefs  Jhall  he  the  conquejls  of  your  eyes^ 
 When  all  your  chartns  Jhall  to  perfeBion  rife, 
 
 I  OUGHT  to  take  more  pains  about  every  thing 
 I  write  to  you,  than  I  have  done  about  thefe  lines; 
 but  I  know.,  Madam,  you  have  good-nature  enough 
 to  excufe 
 
 2^oiir^  &c. 
 
 LETTER     II. 
 
 To  the  Right  Honourable  the  Countefs 
 
 of 
 
 1716. 
 
 I  A  M  extremely   pleas'd  to  hear  you   exprefs 
 fuch  a  tender  concern  for  my  Lord .     I 
 
 am  glad  you  are  fo  well  acquainted  with  the  power 
 of  a  juft  and  innocent  paflion  *,  and  I  hope  public 
 diforders  will  never  interrupt  your  happinefs,  and 
 
 that 
 
jL  E  T  T  E  R  S.  37 
 
 that  all  your  Lad yfhip's  fears  will  foon  vanifli.  Vir- 
 tuous lovers  are  the  care  of  heaven,  and  the  guar- 
 dian angels  will  proted  a  man  of  my  Lord 's 
 
 'merit. 
 
 This  grave  way  of  writing,  I  am  afraid,  is  not 
 very  agreeable  to  your  tafte,  and  you  will  think  it 
 the  difmal  effed:  of  my  fober  contemplations ;  but 
 it  will  be  irnpolTible  for  me  ever  to  be  more  gay, 
 unlefs  I  could  forget  Mr.  Rowe^  and  1  fhall  fooner 
 forget  myfelf  and  all  the  world. 
 
 For  him  all  'thoughts  of  pleafure  I  forego  ^ 
 For  him  my  tears  fhall  never  ceafe  to  flow^ 
 For  him  at  once  1  from  the  world  retire^ 
 To  feed  in  filent  fhades  a  hopelefs  fire. 
 
 But  I  muft,  in  charity  to  your  Ladyihip,  leave 
 this  fubjedl,  and  defir€  you  to  believe,  that 
 
 /  am^  &c. 
 
 »A»     -JV.     •«fllr>     'A^     -i?l-»    ♦A^     "vtV.  Ir»     •rfVt    'Ai>     '^>r»     'VJr»     'A»     'A-     '4^^     'A* 
 
 LETTER     in. 
 
 TS  the  fame. 
 
 Madam^      '  iyi6: 
 
 TH  E  lofs  of  fuch  letters  as  mine  does  not  re- 
 quire much  apology.  If  I  could  have  wrote 
 any  thing  entertaining,  I  fhould  not  have  been  fi- 
 lent, after  fo  agreeable  a  letter  as  that  I  receiv'd 
 from  you ;  but  I  was  not  willing  to  put  you  in  the 
 fpleen,  in  recompence  for  the  fatisfadion  you  gave 
 me.  However  i  Ihall  do  it  now,  for  1  can't  be 
 eafy  till  I  have  fiU'd  my  letter  with  thefe  melan- 
 choly lines  out  of  the  tragedy  o^Jane  Grey: 
 
 D  3  iWy 
 
38  LETTERS. 
 
 My  foul  grows  cut  of  tune ^  it  loathes  the  worlds 
 
 Sickens  at  all  the  noif^  and  folly  of  it  ; 
 
 And  I  could  ft  me  down  infome  dull  fhade^ 
 
 Where  lonely  contemplation  keeps  her  cave^ 
 
 And  dwells,  with  hoary  hermits  *,  there  forget  my  [elf .^ 
 
 There  fix  my  jliipid  eyes  upon  the  earthy 
 
 And  mufe  away  an  age  in  deepeft  melancholy, 
 
 I  F  this  finds  you  full  of  the  fame  tender  fears 
 
 you  had  for  my  Lord-- —  when  I  faw  you  lafl, 
 
 *twill  but  indulge  your  grief  j  but  I  hope  you  have 
 now  more  gay  expe61ations. 
 
 I  F  you  come  to  PFitham,  I  beg  you  to  remem- 
 ber your  engagement  to  fee  me,  v/hich,  however 
 infipid  all  other  kinds  of  pleafure  are  to  me,  will 
 be  a  great  fatisfadion  to 
 
 Tour^  &c. 
 
 J?.  0i,  ^i  >gj  *  ^^,  ^h  ^^  ©i  '^k  ©>.  @  *  SJj^ 
 
 LETTER     IV. 
 
 7o^  the  fame. 
 ,  ....  ^719- 
 
 ^"^  H  E  R  E  is  not  in  the  EnglifJj  hidory  a  more 
 beautiful  charadler  than  that  of  Lady  Jane 
 Grey\  and  I  am  not  iurpriz'd  to  find  you  charnAi 
 with  the  fliining  figure  Ihe  makes  in  Mr.  Rowe's 
 tragedy.  You  feem  to  have  an  equal  fofcnefs  of 
 temper,  and  a  refembling  delicacy  in  your  way  of 
 thinking.  Your  fentiments  had  certainly  been  the 
 fame  with  the  young  heroine's,  if  you  had  the  fame 
 part  to  acl,  that  of  a  martyr,  which  I  hope  you 
 never  will.  Not  that  I  ihould  envy  you  that  illu- 
 flrious  character,  or  am  at  all  unwiliiiig  you  fhould 
 lofe  your  head,  on  condition  you  could  fet  it  on 
 
 again 
 
LETTER  S.  3^ 
 
 again  with  as  much  dexcricy  as  St.  Winifred^  with- 
 out the  leaft  difadvantage  to  your  fine  perfon. 
 
 I  SHOULD  have  been  too  modefl  to  have  troubled 
 you  with  the  enclos'd,  if  I  had  known  how  to  have 
 
 direded  to  Lady. -.  This  ignorance  would  be 
 
 inexcufable  in  any  other  part  of  the  world;  but  the 
 honell  people  here  know  fo  little  where  to   find 
 
 Lady ,  that  they  could  not  inform  me  where 
 
 King  George  himfelf  refides.  If  I  liv'd  in  a  cave, 
 I  could  not  be  more  ignorant  of  what  pafTcs  in  the 
 Grand  Monde,  I  have  indeed  fome  imaginary  re- 
 gions of  my  own  framing,  fome  poetical  domi- 
 nions ; 
 
 Where  fancy  in  her  airy  triumph  reigns^ 
 And  [pre  ads  her  gay  ^  delufivefcenes. 
 
 But  I  believe  you  will  leave  me  to  theunenvy'd 
 enjoyment  of  thefe  vifionary  worlds,  without  the 
 leafl  curiofity  to  know  what  palTes  there. 
 
 /  am^  Sec, 
 
 L  E  T  T  E  R    V.         ' 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 
 YOUR  letters  never  fail  to  give  me  fome  in- 
 tervals of  pleafure,  be  the  fubjed:  what  it  will ; 
 but  the  pleafure  is  heighten'd  to  hear  you  exprefs 
 fuch  a  generous  fatisfadion  on  a  public  account, 
 and  the  profpefl  of  the  future  happinefs  and  wel- 
 fare of  your  country.  I  Jiope  your  fears  for  Lady 
 • are  vanifh'd  by  this  time,  and  that  hea- 
 ven will  long  continue  an  example  of  fuch  early 
 virtue  to  the  world.  But  how  uncertain  are  human 
 things  I 
 
 D  4  , 0 
 
40  LETTERS. 
 
 . . O  empty  name 
 
 Of  earthly  blifs !  'tis  all  an  airy  dream  t 
 
 I  CANNOT  buc  own,  I  am  fecretly  pleas'd  that 
 you  find  the  gay  expedations  from  this  world  all 
 deluding  and  treacherous.  You  know.  Madam, 
 this  is  not  from  any  malice  in  my  temper,  for  I 
 wifh  you  all  the  happinefs  that  would  not  be  preju- 
 dicial to  pleafures  more  noble  and  lafling.  The 
 juftnefs  of  your  fentiments  from  fuch  early  reflec- 
 tions, and  amidft  all  the  inchanting  appearances 
 of  life,  confirms  me  much  more  in  a  contempt  of 
 the  world  than  all  Seneca's  morals. 
 
 Grant  me y  O  virtue  \  thy  moft  folid  joy^ 
 Grant^  me  the  pleafures  of  the  fnindy 
 pleafures  which  only  in  purfuit  of  thee  we  find. 
 Which  fortune  cannot  marr^  nor  chance  deftroy^ 
 
 I  am,  ^c. 
 
 LETTER    VL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam, 
 
 T  Should  have  wrote  to  your  Ladyfhip  before 
 -^  now,  but  I  thought  your  concern  too  juft  and 
 fincere,  to  be  treated  with  ceremony.  Indeed  I  am 
 ill  qualify*d  to  write  epiftles  of  confolation.  The 
 wife,  ^ doleful  things,  that  people  vex  their  friends 
 with  on  thofe  occafions,  appear  to  me  more  like  a 
 farce  than  a  jufl;  ^tv\{t  of  their  grief.  People  may 
 talk  like  good  Chriftians  at  their  eafe,  but  pretty 
 fentences  and  formal  fpeeches  are  very  trifling  reme* 
 dies  to  a  real  and  unaffi:<^ed  forrow. 
 
 You 
 
LETTERS.  41 
 
 You  fee,  Madam,  I  am  ready  to  juftify  all  your 
 
 concern  for  Lady Not  that  I  think  there  is 
 
 any  thing  melancholy  in  an  early  death,  after  a  life 
 fo  virtuous.  Your  charming  fifter  has,  in  my  opi- 
 nion, quitted  the  ftage  very  gracefully  -,  and  in  all 
 the  decorum  of  youthful  charms  and  piety.  Mr. 
 Collier  tells  us  in  his  EJfays^  that  if  the  fun  was  never 
 to  rife  again,  it  would  be  much  more  glorious  for 
 )iim  to  fall  from  the  fkies  with  all  his  light  and  heat, 
 than  to  gain  a  few  hours  only  to  languifh  and  de- 
 cline. 
 
 My  thoughts  are  not  at  prefent  entirely  confid- 
 ent.   I  have  been  reading  my  Lord  Shafisbury's 
 
 Moraliftj  which  has  fill'd  my  head  with  beauties, 
 and  love,  and  harmony,  but  all  of  a  divine  and 
 myfterious  nature.  However  fuperior  his  notions 
 may  be  to  my  capacity,  I  have  been  agreeably  led 
 on  thro'  I  know  not  what  enchanting  fcenesofhap- 
 pinefs.  I  wifh  you  would  read  it,  for  it  would 
 make  you  the  mod  charming  and  agreeable  enthu- 
 fiaft  in  the  world.  Whether  I  am  in  my  right 
 fenfes  at  prefent,  I  cannot  tell,  but  you  may  be 
 alTur'd 
 
 I  am^  &c. 
 
 ^  4.  4, 4,  Of,  ^  Jf,  Jf,  .f,  cf,  i J,  Jfg  .f.  .|o  4.  ^  4,  J^  .|i  .|,  ^  4,  ,Ji  ^  ^  Jj,,  ^  ,|J,  ^  ^  ^  ^  ^^  J|,  J^ 
 
 LETTER    VII. 
 jTo  the  fame. 
 
 Madam^ 
 T  Can  hardly  read  your  Lady&ip's  letter  for  tears. 
 •*•  In  the  circumflances  you  are  in,  I  can  difpute 
 none  of  your  commands,  efpecially  one  fo  agree- 
 able to  myfclf,  as  that  of  waiting  upon  you,  if  in 
 your  gayer  thoughts  you  fhould  infiit  on  it.  If 
 (as  you   fancy)  I  yield  with  fome  reluflance,   'tis 
 
 only 
 
LETTERS. 
 
 only  on  a  felfifh  conjfideration,  becaufe  I  am  un- 
 willing to  convince  you,  than  all  your  thoughts  to 
 tny  advantage  are  without  any  foundation :  for  you 
 -will  find  fo  little  vivacity  in  my  converfation,  that 
 I  believe  this  will  be  the  laft  proof  you  will  exad 
 of  my-  obedience  ;  but  whatever  be  the  event,  you 
 rnay  command  me. 
 
 I  AM  afraid  I  fend  the*enclos'd  too  foon,  to 
 ^cnew  your  grief,  but  not  too  foon,  to  exprefs  my 
 
 gratitude  and  efteem. 1  dare  not  talk  on  this 
 
 fubjedl. 
 
 7  am^  Sec. 
 
 *  An  Elegy  on  the  death  of  the  Hon>i'=  Mrs. 
 
 LETTER    VIII. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam^ 
 
 WHAT  ihall  I  fay?  I  would  attend  you,  I 
 would  fee  and  hear  you,  tho'  in  a  defart,  if 
 I  knew  where  to  find  you,  or  how  to  attain  the 
 happinefs  •,  but  alas !  the  whole  earthly  globe  is 
 between  us,  and  the  poles  may  as  well  meet.  A 
 horfe  or  a  ftage-coach  would.be  fure  deftrudion, 
 and  fhatter  my  ft*ame  to  atoms,  nor  was  I  ever 
 alone  on  the  road.  Yet  I  would  refufe  you  no- 
 thing, and  if  my  Lord  could  fpare  his  coach- 
 
 But  I  am  afraid  the  projed  is  impofiible,  and  I 
 {lill  hope  I  may  have  the  happinefs  to  fee  you  at — . 
 But  you  may  command  me  to  follow  you  where 
 you  pleafe  ;  your  converfation  is  a  pleaiure  which 
 will  ballance  every  thing. 
 
 Tho'  I  never  would  perfuade  people  to  forget 
 their  mortality,  1  hope  your  remembrance  of  it  is 
 
 only 
 
LETTERS.  43 
 
 only  the  fpleen.  I  would  fain  believe  you  have 
 many  happy  years  to  live  i  and  may  heaven  crowa 
 them  with  as  many  bleffings  as  you  can  wilh. 
 
 I  am,  ^c, 
 
 L  E  T  T  E  R    IX, 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Mad  am  ^ 
 
 YOU  will  find,  by  the  hurry  I  was  in  to  leave 
 Hainpftead,  how  little  relifh  I  had  for  fociety, 
 after  I  had  left  your  Ladyfhip.  Your  converfation 
 gave  me  a  perfect  difguft  even  to  the  people  I  moft 
 valu'd.  In  this  impatience,  I  follow'd  the  dictates 
 of  my  own  ungovern'd  imagination,  and  left  the 
 town  and  all  its  joys  this  morning  ;  After  this,  I 
 need  make  no  apology  for  writing  a  fliort  letter. 
 If  I  had  leifiire,  I  fhould  fay  a  thoufand  fine  things 
 
 to  Lady •,  (I  m.ay  call  them  fine  things  in  juflice 
 
 to  myfelf)  but  I  am  fmcerely  griev'd  that  I  Jofb 
 the  happinefs  I  promis'd  myfelf  in  her  converfa- 
 tion :  Yet  where-ever  I  am,  fhe  may  command 
 me  for  writing  or  drawing  what  is  moft  agreeable 
 ^o  her. 
 
 I  am,  C?r. 
 
 LET- 
 
44  L  E  T  T  E  R  a 
 
 LETTER    X. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  f  17 19. 
 
 YOUR  fentiments  are  perfcdlly  juft,  that  *tis 
 more  glorious  to  defpife  the  world  in  the 
 midft  of  all  its  gay  temptations,  than  to  gain  the 
 victory  by  a  cowardly  flight;  but  I  am  only  a  mere 
 mortal,  and  can't  pretend  to  thofe  celeftial  heights 
 of  virtue.  However,  if  I  had  been  a  Roman  Ca- 
 tholic, I  might  have  got  the  reputation  of  a  faint 
 by  this  retreat ;  but  being  of  a  more  reafonable 
 religion,  people  will  fooner  impute  my  retirement 
 to  difl:ra(5lion  than  devotion.  I  begin  to  fancy  I 
 grow  as  humourfome  as  Moliere^s  Mifanthrope,  If 
 -I  had  many  vifits  from  the  good  gentlewomen  here- 
 abouts, I  fhould  raile  the  price  of  hartfhorn,  to 
 keep  me  from  fainting  fits ;  for  oh  !   I  ficken,  I 
 
 die or  ileep  and  dream,  and  am  perfe6lly  ftupi- 
 
 fy'd  at  their  approach.  I  would  fain  reafon  myfelf 
 into  more  patience  and  compofure  of  mind  •,  but 
 this  nicety  of  temper  grows  upon  me,  fo  that  I 
 Ihall  never  be  fit  for  the  fociety  of  mortals  again. 
 Your  Ladyfhip's  letters  are  my  only  entertainment, 
 in  a  place  where  there  is  an  abfolute  vacancy  of 
 common  fenfe  ;  and  they  give  me  a  pleafure  in  my 
 own  way,  which  is  unmingled  with  fatigue.  I  fhould 
 blame  myfelf  for  being  given  up  to  fuch  a  carelefi 
 fort  of  tranquility,  but  'tis  almoft  neceflary  to  my 
 temper.  I  am  impatient  of  all  the  converfation 
 which  happens  in  low  life;  and  in  a  higher  rank, 
 J  have  fuch  an  averfion  to  every  thing  that  appears 
 fervile  and  dependent,  that  even  the  necefTary  for- 
 malities, that  people  are  oblig'd  to  pay,  grow  tire- 
 fome  and  ridiculous.  Whether  this  proceeds  from 
 feme  unconquer'd  pride  in  my  heart,   or  from  a 
 
 confcious 
 
LETTERS.  45 
 
 eanfcious  greatnefs  of  mind,  I  am  not  willing  tO' 
 determine  ;  becaufe  I  have  an  inclination  to  be  par- 
 tial to  myfelf,  and  to  make  my  faults  pafs  for  vir- 
 tues. 
 
 My  letter  is  of  a  proper  length,  and  after  that, 
 
 I  am,  £sff. 
 
 LETTER    XL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 YOU  will  find,  by  the  *  enclosed,  how  mj 
 thoughts  were  employ'd  in  the  little  fit  of 
 ficknefs  which  lately  confin'd  me.  My  thoughts 
 were  on  this  occafion  very  gay  and  ferene ;  but  the 
 cafe  was  only  imaginary  -,  when  it  comes  to  be  real» 
 and  in  a  more  gloomy  interval,  thofe  unknown  re- 
 gions may  have  a  different  appearance.  But  as  to 
 human  things,  my  concern  for  your  future  happir 
 nefs  will  be  the  lafl  care  I  ihall  refign.  As  for  this 
 world,  you  have  as  great  a  ihare  of  felicity  as  the 
 mofl  beneficent  temper  can  wifh  you,  if  wealth  and 
 grandeur  can  yield  any  real  joy,  and  have  any  thing 
 in  them  beyond  a  fleeting  vifionary  appearance  \  as 
 they  have  not,  if  you  believe  the  poet. 
 
 Short  is  the  date,  and  narrow  is  the  fpafty 
 Which  bounds  the  little  life  of  foolijh  man. 
 Cay  fcenes  of  blifs  the  ravijh^d  foul  furprize^ 
 Raife  his  vain  hopes^  and  glitter  in  his  eyes  j 
 Of  fwelling  titles  he  fupinely  dreams^ 
 Vafl  are  his  proje5fs^  and  refined  his  fchemes: 
 But  when  his  morning  views  of  joy  are  pcifi^ 
 ^he  melancholy  evening  comes  at  lafi  \ 
 
 *  The  following  letter. 
 
 ,  The 
 
46  LETTERS. 
 
 Jhe  tyrant  death  a  hafty  fummons  fends ^ 
 And  all  bis  momentary  glory  ends. 
 
 Mr.  Daniel 
 
 You  will  not  be  difpleas'd,  if  I  leave  you  now 
 to  your  own  more  gay  foliloquies.     Adieu. 
 
 LETTER     XIL 
 
 To  the  Right  Hon,  the  Countefs  of 
 
 Alcidam^ 
 
 WHETHER  I  have  weeks,  or  days,  or  but 
 a  few  hours  to  live,  heaven  only  can  deter-- 
 mine ;  but  as  from  fome  dangerous  fymptoms,  I 
 think  my  time  very  fhort,  I  find  a  great  deal  of 
 pleafure  in  taking  my  leave  of  my  friends  in  this 
 folemn  manner.  You  may  be  affur'd  the  efteem 
 I  am  HOW  exprefling  for  you  is  fmcere.  I  am  pafb 
 the  ceremonies  of  the  world,  and  therefore  I  can- 
 not treat  you  with  the  lead  formality.  My  thoughts 
 have  often  vifited  the  manfions  of  the  dead  ,  the 
 part  I  am  now  to  perform  has  been  fo  frequently 
 aded  over  in  my  imagination,  that  I  am  not  dif- 
 compos'd  to  think,  that  in  a  few  days  the  circum- 
 fiances  may  be  real, 
 
 Peopj^e  have  generally  a  cufiofity  to  know  the 
 thoughts  of  their  friends,  when  they  are  on  the 
 borders  of  thole  ftrange  and  unknown  regions,  from 
 whence  there  is  no  return.  'Tis  indeed  a  ferious 
 thing  to  die ;  but  virtue  difarms  the  gloomy  king 
 of  all  his  terrors,  and  brightens  the  profpedt  of  fu- 
 turity. 
 
 I  HAVE  read  the  Spe^ators  on  this  fubjed  witii 
 conilant  pleafure,  and  have  been  charm'd  with 
 fome   inflances  of  the  Roman  fortitude  -,    but  the 
 
 Chriftian 
 
LETTERS.  47 
 
 Chrifllan  religion  arms  the  mind  with  a  refolutioa 
 more  juft  and  noble,  while  it  alTures  us  with  the 
 cleareft  evidence,  that  an  immortality  of  happinefs 
 is  the  reward  of  a  pious  life. 
 
 If  you  hear  no  more  from  me,  my  deareft  friend ^ 
 a  long  adieu,  till  we  meet  in  the  triumphant  feats 
 above. 
 
 E.  RowE, 
 
 LETTER     XIIL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 
 NEVER  was  there  a  more  exa6l  imitation  of 
 Mrs. 's  ftyle  and  way  of  thinking 
 
 than  the  paper  you  enclos'd  -,  every  line  appear'd 
 like  the  product  of  her  unguided  imagination.  I 
 hope  his  Lordfhip  will  never  take  it  into  his  brains 
 to  mimic  any  of  my  elTays,  either  in  verfe  or  profe. 
 The  very  apprehenfion  finks  my  fpirits.  However, 
 I  am  refolv'd  to  ftifle  all  thefe  motions  of  modefty, 
 and  go  on  thro'  fenfe  and  nonfenfe  to  fill  up  my 
 paper,  defying  any  peer  in  the  realm  to  imitate 
 my  liyle,  unlefs  his  imagination  takes  as  many 
 fhapes  as  Proteus. 
 
 How  many  unfuccelsful  attempts  I  lliall  make 
 in  tranflating  Paftor  Fido  is  yet  uncertain.  1  con- 
 demn in  one  moment,  what  1  admired  but  juft  be- 
 fore :  I  write  five  or  fix  verfes,  and  think  them 
 perfectly  fine  and  harmonious,  and  worthy  of  Jpollo 
 himfelf,  and  never  to  be  excell'd.  I  read  them 
 with  approbation  and  rapture,  and  do  myfelf  the 
 higheft  juflice  -,  till  on  a  more  deliberate  view,  I 
 fink  from  my  elevations,  and  grow  exceeding  hum- 
 ble, to  find  every  line  dull  and  impertinent.™—  I 
 
 wifh 
 
48  LETTERS. 
 
 wiih  the  Pope  v/oiild  confer  on  me  fome  Ihare  of 
 his  infallibility,  that  I  might  make  an  unerring 
 judgment  of  myfelf  5  tho'  I  am  afraid  fuch  a  judg- 
 ment would  not  raife  my  vanity. 
 
 I  PERCEIVE  I  am  the  heroine  of  this  epiftle, 
 except  the  honour  I  have  done  my  Lord-^ —  in 
 mentioning  him.  I  continue  to  do  myfelf  honour 
 by  fubfcribing  myfelf 
 
 lour,  &c. 
 
 P.  S,  I  have  juft  receiv'd  a  long  and  agreeable 
 
 letter  from  Mrs ,  but  my  integrity  has  no 
 
 efFe(fl ',  for  fhe  will  retain  the  word,  fweetJy,  to  her 
 laft  breath,  and  give  up  her  life  in  the  dear  har- 
 monious found. 
 
 LETTER    XIV. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam, 
 
 I  As  fincerely  thank  you  for  wilhing  me  fo  many 
 new  years,  as  a  flave  would  for  wifhing  he  might 
 long  enjoy  his  fetters.  Not  but  nature  recoils  at 
 the  gloomy  pafTage,  without  the  fupports  that  the 
 great  truths  of  Chriftianity  afford  ;  and  even  with 
 thefe,  the  fatal  darknefs  has  often  a  thoufand  ima- 
 ginary terrors,  which  are  defcrib'd  with  great  em- 
 phafis  in  the  following  lines  by  an  unknown  hand: 
 
 ^he  foul  convulsed, 
 Trembles  in  anxious  doubt,  andjhudd'ringjlandsj 
 Afraid  to  leap  into  the  ofning  gulpb. 
 Of  future  fate  -,  till  all  the  banks  of  clay 
 
 Fall 
 
LETTERS.  49 
 
 Fall  from  beneath  bis  feet :  In  vain  he  grafps 
 The  fhatter^d  reeds ^  that  cheat  his  eafy  wifh> 
 
 Then  the  gay  glories  of  the  living  world 
 Shall  caft  their  empty  varnifh^  and  retire 
 Out  of  his  feeble  view,  while  rifing  fhades  ,  . 
 
 Sit  hovering  on  all  nature^ s  various  face. 
 Muftc  fhall  ceafe^  and  infiruments  of  joy 
 Shall  fail  that  fallen  hour ;  nor  can  the  mind 
 Attend  their  founds  when  fancy  fvoiins  in  death 
 Confus'd  and  crujh^d  with  cares  \  for  long  /hall  feer/i 
 The  dreary  road,  and  ?nelancholy  darky 
 That  leads  he  knows  7wt  where. 
 
 These  grave  refiedlions  are  not  perhaps  a-propos 
 to  a  fine  lady  in  the  bloom  of  youth,  and  amidft 
 all  the  blandifhments  of  a  court.  One  would  think 
 I  was  writing  to  fome  fober  DifTenter,  mortify 'd  to 
 the  gaudy  vanities  of  the  world  :  But  really,  Ma- 
 dam, my  entertaining  you  on  thefe  fubjedts  is  the 
 greateft  compliment  I  can  make  you,  and  an  un- 
 queftionable  evidence  of  a  friend Ihip  that  forms 
 wifhes  for  your  happinefs  beyond  all  the  advantages 
 this  treacherous  world  can  give  you.  The  flatter- 
 ing dream  of  life  will  foon  be  over,  and  all  beyond 
 is  boundlefs  and  immortal. 
 
 Eternity,  thou  dreadful,  pleafing  thought  I 
 Thro*  what  variety  of  untrfd  being. 
 
 Thro*  what  new  fcenes  and  changes  muji  we  paf? 
 
 Addison. 
 
 However,  you  may  have  no  curiofity,  at  pre- 
 fent,  to  try  what  enjoyments  the  invifible  region 
 can  yield,  and  are  too  well  pleas'd  with  your  pre- 
 fent  flation,  to  grow  impatient  to  be  above  the 
 ftars :  But  if  you  fhould  forget  that  you  are  mor- 
 tal, and  born  co  die,  it  will  not  be^the  fault  of 
 
 T^our,  &c. 
 
 Vol.  11.  E  LET- 
 
50  LETTERS. 
 
 LETTER     XV. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 ^r~r"'IS  well  your  Ladyfliip  has  given  me  a  full 
 Jl  difpenllition  from  all  forms  and  ceremony, 
 and  that  I  have  your  permiflion  to  be  as  free  and 
 licentious  in  that  point  as  1  will.  If  I  was  writing 
 to  any  other  perfon  of  your  quality,  *cis  likely,  I 
 fhould  be  as  formal  as  your  mantua-woman,  and 
 might  tack  your  title  to  every  fentence^  but  in 
 addreffing  myfclf  to  you,  I  am  apt  to  forget  every- 
 thing but  your  real  merit,  and  can't  help  talking 
 In  a  manner^  pcrfedly  unaffected  and  fincere.  'Tis 
 quite  different  in  my  intervals  of  politenefs.  I  find 
 myfelf  fo  embarafs'd  with  your  dignity  and  titles, 
 that  it  cofts  me  more  trouble  than  all  the  reft  of 
 my  letter  *,  it  gives  me  a  world  of  anxiety,  where 
 to  place  the  word,  Lachjhip^  in  its  proper  fituation, 
 without  fpoiling  the  mufic  and  cadence  of  a  period  ; 
 which  would  be  a  great  afRiclion  to  me,  who  am 
 as  fond  (and  perhaps  a  little  more  fond)  of  found 
 than  of  fenfe.  However,  if  I  fliould  forget  that 
 I  am  writing  to  a  Countcfs,  I  Ihall  not  forget  a 
 thoufand  other  advantages  which  give  your  cha- 
 rader  a  fhining  diftindion. 
 
 Your  Ladyfhip  will  cafily  excufe  me  for  ven- 
 turing to  let  you  pafs  a  thoufand  times  thro'  my 
 imagination,  with  no  other  circumftance  of  gran- 
 deur than  your  own  innate  merit.  The  charming 
 idea,  unencumber'd  with  the  vain  parade  of  ftate, 
 entertains  my  thought  with  the  beauty  of  virtue  and 
 unaffeded  goodnefs. 
 
 I  AM  afraid  you  will  think  I  am  turn'd  Quaker, 
 and  am  going  19  abfolve  myfelf  from  all  human 
 rites  and  cerei^onies,  both  of  a  civil  or  religious 
 nature  \  and  that  for  the  future  I  intend  to  live  at 
 
 large. 
 
LETTERS.  51 
 
 large,  in  defiance  of  all  rule  and  method.  But  I 
 hope  this  apology  will  be  an  excufe  for  the  future 
 irregularities  of, 
 
 Madam ^  Toin\  &c. 
 
 •^•^*!^y 
 
 LETTER     XVI. 
 
 To  the  fame.     - 
 
 I  Wish  with  all  my  heart  you  had  married  a  fpi- 
 ritual  Lord  inftead  of  a  temporal  one.  I  might 
 then  have  follow'd  my  own  inclinations,  and  talked 
 of  nothing  but  good  things  to  you.  I  am  now  in 
 a  very  fober  difpofition,  and  yet,  in  my  own  de- 
 fence, I  mud  appear  worfe  than  I  am,  for  fear  of 
 pafling  for  a  fanatic  with  a  certain  Peer  of  Great 
 Britain.  But  really  one  would  not  think  it  fhould 
 be  a  ridiculous  thing  to  be  religious,  nor  that  fub- 
 jeds  of  this  nature  fhould  look  like  the  effed  of 
 the  fpleen.  If  there  is  any  condud  juft  and  rea- 
 fonable,  'tis  to  purfue  endlefs  happinefs,  and  fly 
 from  unlimited  mifcry.  There  can  be  nothing 
 whimfical  in  this  fort  of  caution  -,  people  may  as 
 well  laugh  at  men  for  endeavouring  to  fave  their 
 lives  in  a  fhipwreck,  as  think  it  a  jell  to  be  ferious 
 in  an  affair  of  infinitely  greater  confequence  than 
 mortal  life,  with  all  its  narrow  interefts.  But,  as 
 the  Italian  Poet  fays, 
 
 ^anto  omhra  di  fenfi  il  cor  ofcura^ 
 Ch'*ama  il  momento^  e  Vimmortal  non  cura. 
 
 If  this  letter  comes  to  your  Ladyfhip  in  one  of 
 your  moments  of  vivacity,  you  will  fancy  I  am 
 very  much  at  leifure,  to  make  thefe  wife  reflexi- 
 ons, which  I  humbly  conceive  you  are  not  always 
 
 E  2  difpos'd 
 
52  LETTERS. 
 
 difpos'd  to  read,  nor  (to  fpeak  but  modeftly)  am 
 I  always  inclin'd  to  write.  However,  if  I  had  as 
 little  charity  for  you  as  you  imagine,  I  fhould  be 
 very  unhappy  ;  while  I  believ'd  you  in  the  paths  of 
 vice,  it  would  difturb  all  my  peace  in  this  world, 
 and  (according  to  my  prefent  apprehenfions)  be  an 
 allay  to  my  joys  in  the  next. 
 
 If  you  were  rmn*d^  oh !  could  I  he  bleji  ? 
 Tell  7ney  ye  guardians  of  eternal  reft. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 LETTER    XVII. 
 
 To  the  Jame. 
 
 Madam  y 
 
 TH  O'  it  has  been  fome  relief  to  you,  it  has 
 been  a  great  mortification  to  me,  to  keep 
 filence  fo  long  ;  and  I  muft  fpeak  or  die  :  It  would 
 coll  me  a  fit  of  ficknefs,  not  to  utter  my  imperti- 
 nence. I  have  been  reading  a  difcourfe  on  happi- 
 nefs,  and  the  pleafure  will  be  loft,  if  I  don't  give 
 your  Ladyfhip  a  fhare  in  ic. 
 
 Tous  les  homfnes  defirent  d^etre  heureux^  cela  eft 
 fans  exception ;  la  volontc  ne  fait  jamais  le  moindre 
 demarche^  que  vers  cette  ohjet,  '  C'eft  la  motif  de 
 ioutes  les  a5itons  de  tons  les  homines^  jusqu^a  ceux  qui 
 
 fe  -pendent. Thofe  that  live  in  courts,  that 
 
 fly  to  defarts  •,  thofe  that  chufe  the  fteep  afcent  to 
 the  ftars,  or  the  eafy  paths  to  the  fhades  below, 
 have  all  the  fame  defign.  I  am  purfuing  my  own 
 happinefs  now,  but  I  am  afraid  not  yours ;  unlefs 
 it  will  be  any  fatisfaclion  to  you  to  know,  that  I 
 
 am  exceedingly  interefted  in  Lord — ^'s  health, 
 
 and  hope  he  has  got  rid  of  his  cold.     I  never  tell 
 
 lies 
 
LETTER  S.  53 
 
 lies  in  compliment,  nor  in  the  gaiety  of  my  heart; 
 you  may  believe  me  when,  I  allure  you,  I  have 
 carefs'd  every  little  clean  child  that  I  have  feen  of 
 his  age,  with  the  imagination  it  lookM  like  him. 
 
 I  SHALL  not  be  eafy  till  you  order  Mrs. to 
 
 let  me  know  you  are  recover'd  from  the  indifpofi- 
 tion  your  Ladylhip  complain'd  of  in  your  laft  ob- 
 liging letter.  If  you  had  not  all  the  merit  the  fex 
 can  boafl  of,  I  fliould  blame  myfelf ;  if  I  am  fond 
 of  any  thing  on  earth  to  an  excefs,  'tis  of  you.  If 
 I  could  help  it,  you  fhould  not  engage  fo  many  of 
 my  thoughts  as  you  do  ;  but  the  obligations  of  rea- 
 fon  and  virtue  are  unalterable,  nor  is  it  pofllble 
 for  me  to  exprefs  with  what  fincerity 
 
 /  aniy  &c. 
 
 P.  S.  This  letter  is  neither  {qii^q,  nor  grammar, 
 >r  legible  ;  and 
 Mr 's  hands. 
 
 nor  legible  \  and  I  am  undone  if  ever  it  falls  into 
 
 t 
 
 LETTER     XVIII. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 I  Wish  with  all  my  heart  you  were  fmcere,  when 
 you  tell  me,  that  one  letter  of  mine  is  worth 
 twenty  of  yours  -,  I  would  certainly  exad  the  debt, 
 without  any  confcience  or  modefty. 
 
 Have    you  made  a  vow,  never  to  fpeak  one 
 
 word  of  Lord to  me?  You  will  not  fo  much 
 
 as  let  me  know,  whether  he  laughs  or  cries,  fleeps 
 or  wakes  j  if  he's  airy  and  gay,  or  grave  and  feri- 
 ous;  and  yet  you  know  I  love  him  dearly,  and 
 wifli  him  the  height  of  happinefs  in  the  pofTefllon 
 of  his  bells  and  rattles,  and  all  the  variety  of  his 
 play-things.  E  3  Mr. 
 
54  LETTERS. 
 
 Mr... continues  his  defign  of  writing  a 
 
 poem  on  the  infcription  of  the  Athenian  altar,  To 
 the  unknown  God,  Whether  the  Deity  is  known  or 
 unknown,  Mr.  Pascal  has  made  a  very  juft  re- 
 fledion  on  this  fabjecfc. 
 
 IL.  n^y  a  qiie  deux  fortes  de  perfonnes^  qu^on  puife 
 appeller  raifonnahles  *,  on  ceux  qui  fervent  Dieu  de 
 tout  leur  cceur^  parcequ^ils  le  connoiffent ;  ou  ceux  quails 
 cherchent  de  tout  leur  cceur^  parcequ^ils  ne  le  connoijfent 
 pas  encore, 
 
 I  DARE  not  determine  to  which  ofthefe  ranks 
 
 Mr. belongs  -,  the  giving  him  the  charader 
 
 of  a  faint,  I  am  fure  he  would  take  for  a  very  odd 
 fort  of  compliment.  But  Vv^hile  I  am  at  a  lofs  to  re- 
 folve  in  what  clafs  he  is  to  be  plac'd,  I  may  v/ith 
 great  certainty  fubfcribe  myfelf, 
 
 Mad  am  ^  your^  &c. 
 
 L  E  T  T  -E  R    XIX. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madaniy 
 
 ^T  EVER  was  there  a  more  agreeable  letter 
 ^  than  your  laft ;  if  you  always  reafon  fo  juftly 
 when  you  are  going  to  fee  a  play,  the  diverfion 
 will  never  be  dangerous.  Of  all  public  entertain- 
 ments, a  tragedy  to  me  would  be  the  mofl  agree- 
 able and  enchanting  -,  but  I  fhall  never  repent  that 
 I  have  fo  flridly  kept  my  promife,  not  to  fee  any 
 performance  of  that  kind  *,  unlefs  my  high  delight 
 the  opera  was  a  breach  of  it,  as  I  am  a  little  afraid 
 it  was. 
 
 There  is  a  poem  in  blank  verfe  lately  printed, 
 call'd  If  inter  i  by  Mr.  ThG7nfon  5    'tis  very  fine,  fo 
 
 that 
 
LETTERS.  55 
 
 that  I  am  perfuaded  it  will  pleafe  the  juftnefs  of 
 your  tafte.     I  mufl  copy   this  defcription  : 
 
 ^HE  year  yet  pleafing^  hut  declining  fafty 
 Soft  d*er  the  fecret  foul  in  gentle  gales 
 A  philofophic  melancholy  breaths. 
 And  hears  thefwelling  thoughts  aloft  to  heav'n. 
 
 OH!  hear  ?ne  then  to  high-emhow^ringfhades^ 
 To  twilight  groves^  and  vifionary  vales^ 
 To  weeping  grottoes^  and  to  hoary  caves ; 
 Where  angel  forms  are  feen^  and  voices  heard ^ 
 SigFd  in  low  whifpers^  that  attract  the  foul 
 From  outward  fenfe  far  into  worlds  remote^ 
 
 You'll  give  me  leave  to  m^ake  my  compliments 
 
 to  Lady ,  and  to  Lord -^  if  he  is  yet 
 
 a  reafonable  creature. 
 
 /  am^  &c. 
 
 ^^^VS/^^*  ^^^^^S^*'^*'^^^ 
 
 LETTER    XX. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madamy 
 
 YOU  command  my  pafTions  how  you  pleafe, 
 and  put  me  in  the  fpleen,  for  no  other  rea- 
 fon,  but  becaufe  you  are  in  a  melancholy  difpofi- 
 tion  yourfelf,  I  am  not  apt  to  flatter  people  that 
 they  are  immortal,  but  I  am  fully  perfuaded,  that 
 you  will  foon  fee  your  fearis  of  death  end  in  perfecft 
 health,  and  as  much  happinefs  as  this  world  can 
 give  you.  I  hope  your  Ladylhip  will  write  in  a 
 more  chearful  drain  by  the  next  poft,  and  I'll  en- 
 deavour not  to  trouble  you  fo  often  with  my  let- 
 ters 5  but  I  can't  grow  indifferent  to  the  pleafure  of 
 
 E  4  converfmg 
 
56  LETTERS. 
 
 converfing  with  you :  However,  VW  attempt  It,  In 
 charity  to  your  Ladylhip. 
 
 I  HAVE  not  forgot  Lady 's  fparkling  eyes 
 
 and  mufical  voice,  tho'  I  have  met  with  nothing 
 fair  enough  to  reprefent  her  to  my  imagination  ;  as 
 
 I  have  for  my  Lord ,  whole  place  is  fupply'd 
 
 by  a  little  child  I  have  met  with  as  fine  as  vanity 
 can  make  it,  and  as  fair  and  beautiful  as  a  cherubin. 
 
 I  SEND  you  this  copy  of  verfes,  becaufe  I  was 
 pleas'd  with  both  the  fenfe  and  found. 
 
 Vanita  delta  vita  prefente, 
 
 E  fiu7ne  che  fcende, 
 
 E  pofa  non  ha  ; 
 E  mar  che  V attendee 
 
 II  fe?npre  ft  fa, 
 
 E  nave  che  paffay 
 
 Ne  torna  mai  pu^ 
 Et  or 711  a  non  lafja^ 
 
 Da  dirfiy  qui  fu, 
 
 E  rapido  ftraky 
 
 Che  appena  fcocco^ 
 Che  it  punio  finale 
 
 Veloce  tocco. 
 
 E  lampo  che  tofio 
 
 Che  gli  occhi  feri^ 
 ^ra  l'*omhre  nafcofto 
 
 Da  gli  occhi  fvani. 
 
 II  fol  che  fovente 
 
 Ritrova  occidentey 
 Dove  hehhe  la  culla^ 
 E  non  fo  che^  che  ft  riduce  al  nulla. 
 
 I  ^m,  i^c  LET- 
 
LETTERS.  57 
 
 LETTER    XXI. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Mada?n., 
 
 IF  mortals  invention  was  not  limited,  and  I  could 
 write  always  fomething  new  and  entertaining, 
 your  Ladyfhip  fhould  never  reproach  me  for  my 
 filence  ;  but  unlefs  I  fay  the  fame  things  again, 
 and  tire  you  with  eternal  repetitions,  I  muft  re- 
 lieve myfelf  fometimes,  by  managing  my  flock ; 
 for  my  genius  is  almoft  exhaufted,  and  as  to  any 
 thing  of  wit  I  am  ready  to  give  up  the  ghoft  : 
 Nor  is  it  pofTible  in  this  heatheniOi  country  to  fup- 
 ply  my  indigence,  and  get  frefh  recruits.  This  is 
 not  your  Ladyfhip's  cafe  -,  when  you  don't  write, 
 it  is  pure  malice  and  deliberate  ill-nature  i  you  can 
 write  the  hiftory  of  the  prefent  age. 
 
 The  poem  of  the  Horn-book  is  too  wicked  for 
 you ;  but  I  am  fure  it  would  have  pleas'd  my  Lord 
 
 — ,    but  'twas   too  profane:  And  to  put  it 
 
 out  of  my  power  to  give  him  fuch  a  criminal 
 diverfion,  I  fent  it  back  to  the  perfon  from  whom 
 I  had  iti  and  indeed  it  was  not  a  fmall  piece  of 
 felf-denial  to  me.  But  when  I  have  told  you,  I 
 am  extremely  concern'd  to  hear  my  Lord  has  been 
 fo  ill  of  the  gout,  I'll  copy  fome  moral  lines  to 
 make  his  Lordlliip  fatisfaclion  for  the  very  unchri- 
 Itian  wit  I  would  not  tranfcribe. 
 
 What  are  difiin5fiony  honour^  wealth  andftate^ 
 
 'The  pojnp  of  courts  and  triumphs  of  the  great  \ 
 
 The  numerous  troops^that  envf  d thrones fecure^ 
 
 And  fplendid  enfigns  of  imperial  pow*r  ? 
 
 What  the  high  palace  reared  with  vaft  e^pence^ 
 
 JJnrivali'd  art^  and  luxury  immenfe^ 
 
 Wit^ 
 
58  LETTERS. 
 
 With  ftatues  grac'd  by  ancient  Greece  fiipply^d^ 
 With  771010  than  Perfian  wealth  and  Tyrhn  pride? 
 
 LE'T  lawrel  wreaths  the  vi^or'^s  brow  adorn^ 
 Sublime  thro*  gazing  throngs  in  triumph  born : 
 Let  accla?nations  ring  around  the  Jkies^ 
 While  curlmg  clouds  of  balmy  incenfe  rife : 
 Let  [polls  ifnmenfe^  let  trophies  gaw^^d  in  war^ 
 And  conquer'* d  kings  attend  his  rolling  car , 
 If  dread  of  death  fill  unfubdu^d  retnains^ 
 And  fecret  o*er  the  vanqiiiffd  vi5for  reigns^ 
 S7:>'  illuftrious  Jlave  in  endlefs  thraldom  bears 
 A  heavier  chain  than  his  led  captive  wears. 
 
 Blackmore, 
 
 I  BEGIN  to  defpair  of  feeing  Mr.  Rollins  MilSoi^, 
 I  am  in  a  very  probable  way  to  make  my  exit,  and 
 hear  the  true  relation  of  the  fall  of  angels  from 
 fome  of  the  adors,  before  his  ftory  is  told. 
 
 /  a7ny  Sec. 
 
 LETTER     XXIL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam., 
 
 ISent  your  Ladyfhip  a  pacquet  by  the  laft  pofl, 
 which  was  not  received,  when  you  did  me  the 
 honour  of  your  laft.  Whenever  I  delay,  'tis  only 
 from  a  fear  of  being  impertinent,  and  when  I  write, 
 'tis  with  a  fel fifh  defign  to  procure  an  anfwer;  for, 
 without  any  compliment,  your  letters  are  the  molt 
 agreeable  entertainment  of  my  life.  I  never  read 
 them  without  a  generous  grief,  that  the  public  does 
 not  fliarc  in  the  pleafure  and  profit  they  give  me. 
 
 I    SHALL 
 
LETTERS.  59 
 
 I  SHALL  never  make  a  vow  that  will  coll  me  fo 
 dear,  as  converfmg  no  more  with  you  •,  'tis  too 
 great  a  height  of  mortification,  to  break  a  friend- 
 ihip  with  one  of  the  mofb  generous  and  agreeable 
 perfons  in  the  world.  I  don't  ufe  to  flatter  people, 
 but  1  am  forc'd  to  fpeak  the  truth  in  my  own  jufti- 
 fication  ;  for  I  had  rather  half  the  human  race 
 fhould  think  m.e  flupid,  than  have  your  ill  opinion. 
 
 The  Italian  tragedies  your  Ladyfliip  has  been 
 fo  obliging  as  to  fend,  will  be  a  molt  agreeable  en- 
 tertainment in  fome  of  my  peaceful  hours.  There 
 is  fomerhing  in  tragedy  fo  great,  and  fo  fuperior 
 to  the  common  way  of  life,  that  in  reading,  tho*  I 
 can't  fancy  myfelf  a  princefs,  I  very  often  wilh 
 for  the  regal  dignity,  that  I  might  fpeak  in  the 
 fublime,  and  adt  the  heroine. 
 
 Mr. '  v/ill  oblige  me,  to  keep  his  elegy  on 
 
 my  death  till  a  more  proper  feafon,  becaufe  I  am 
 at  prefent  alive  ;  and  yet  I  almoft  wifh  myfelf  dead, 
 to  be  lamented  in  his  agreeable  flrains  ;  it  really 
 flatters  my  vanity.  I  intend  to  leave  him  a  mourn- 
 ing ring  with  this  motto.  Prepare  to  follow  me. 
 He'll  have  patience  to  read  fo  much  divinity  as 
 may  be  comprehended  in  the  pofy  of  a  ring,  tho' 
 the  fight  of  a  folio  would  fright  him. 
 
 Why  are  you  fo  carelefs  of  your  health.  Lady 
 .«=,^  ?  you  don't  confider  the  confequence  of  your 
 
 life  to  the  world You  muft  take  pains  to  get 
 
 fuch  violent  colds.  I  can't  prefcribe  dofes*,  but  I 
 am  fure,  if  my  wiQies  are  pious  enough  to  reach 
 the  Ikies,  you  will  be  fecure  of  every  bkfTmg. 
 
 /  amy  Sec, 
 
 LET- 
 
6o  LETTERS. 
 
 LETTER.     XXIIL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 T  Am   not    furpriz'd  to  hear  that  fuch  a  life  as 
 
 •*•  Mr.* ~'s  (hould  have  fuch  a  glorious  con- 
 
 clufion  ;  that  after  fuch  a  ferene  day,  his  fun  fhould 
 fet  in  fmiles  and  beauty.  I  can  hardly  forbear  con- 
 gratulating his  friends  on  the  happy  occafion  ,  nor 
 is  it  polTible  to  read  your  account,  without  envy- 
 ing fuch  a  compos'd  and  graceful  exit.  Compared 
 to  this,  what  a  mean  and  defpicable  figure  muft 
 an  infidel  make,  when  juft  about  to  try  that  grand, 
 -peut-etre^  that  important /d-r^^/^j,  on  which  infinite 
 happinefs  or  mifery  depends  ? 
 
 *TwAS  a  more  glorious  profped  that  calm'd  the 
 anguifh  of  your  dying  friend,  footh'd  his  pains, 
 and  brighten'd  his  face  with  a  fmile,  in  the  laft 
 agonies  of  nature.  But  what  was  the  next  tran- 
 fporting  fcene,  which  open'd  on  the  jufl  unfetter'd 
 mind  ?  with  what  triumph  was  it  introduc'd  among 
 the  great^  immortals.^  with  what  enlargement  is  the 
 gentle  fpirit  now  wandering 
 
 'Thro'  hundlefs  realms  ofhlifs^ 
 Where  ■pUafure  hlojfoms  with  eternal  fpring ; 
 Enjoyments  inade  immortal  by  defire^ 
 And  joys  that  flow  on  joys  f 
 
 Thefe  verfes  are  borrow'd  from  a  tragedy  of  0/- 
 wafs\  you'll  pardon  me  for  perverting  them  to  a 
 purpofe  fomewhat  more  pious  than  the  author  de- 
 fign'd. 
 
 I  AM  my  Lord 's  and  Lady  — -'s  humble 
 
 fervant ;  but  at  prefent  my  Lord is  my  hero. 
 
 I  am  told  he  is  the  mod  beautiful  thing  under  the 
 fun :  Above  it  I  fuppofe  he  has  fome  rivals. 
 
 Where 
 
LETTERS.  6i 
 
 Where  fmiling  feraphs  touch  the  golden  ftritjg^ 
 And  rofy  cherubs  foft  refponfes  fiyig, 
 
 A-PROPos,  now  I  am  in  the  fublime,  V\\  let 
 you  know  how  much  I  wifh'd  to  converfe  with 
 you  laft  night,  while  I  was  looking  at  the  Northern 
 Streamers,  The  skies  feem'd  all  in  a  glorious  cfon- 
 fufion.  I  muftown  the^novelty  of  the  fcene  pleas'd 
 me  beyond  the  regular  beauty  of  the  moon  and 
 ftars.  When  time  has  run  his  courfe,  fijch  a  glit- 
 tering diforder,  perhaps,  will  be  the  prelude  to 
 the  general  diffolution  of  nature.  However,  I  could 
 not  but  form  in  my  imagination  the  grandeur  of 
 that  period,  when  the  powers  of  heaven  lliall  be 
 fhaken,  and  the  wreck  of  the  univerfe  fliall  grace 
 the  triumphs  of  the  day  \  and  as  I  am  exceedingly 
 pleas'd  with  Y)x,Toi{ng\  defcriptions  on  this  fubjcd:, 
 I  am  glad  of  an  excufe  to  repeat  them. 
 
 Heaven  opening  all  its  [acred  pomp  difplays. 
 The  triumph  rings ^  arch-angels  Jhout  around^ 
 And  echoing  nature  lengthens  out  the  found, 
 Ten  thoufand  trumpets  now  at  once  advance^ 
 Now  deepeft  filence  lulls  the  vaji  expanfe  *, 
 So  deep  the  filence^  and  fo  Jlrong  the  blaft^ 
 As  nature  dy^dy  when  Jhe  had  groaned  her  laft  : 
 
 Nor  man  nor  angel  moves* .  The  judge  on  high 
 
 Looks  round,  and  with  his  glory  fills  the  Jky, 
 Not  guilty  fear^  not  fancy^s  felf  can  draw 
 A  meeting  more  auguft  :  Of  greater  awe. 
 Perhaps^  thro*  all  eternity  has  been 
 By  God  himfelf  nought  more  tremendous  feen, 
 
 HOW vaftthe  concourfel  not  in  number  more 
 The  waves  that  break  on  the  refotinding  fhore^ 
 
 The 
 
62  LETTERS. 
 
 'The  leaves  that  tremble  in  the  Jhady  grove ^ 
 The  lamps  that  guild  the  fp angled  vault  above. 
 Tribes^  -provinces^  dominions^  worlds  overflow 
 The  mighty  plain^  and  deluge  all  below  j 
 j^nd  ev^ry  age  and  nation  pour  along^ 
 Nimrod  and  Bourbon  mingle  in  the  throng: 
 Adam  falutes  his  youngeft  Jon ;  no  fign 
 Of  all  thofe  ages^  that  their  birth  disjoin. 
 
 One  would  think  this  poem  was  not  printed, 
 or  that  I  was  willing  to  fave  you  the  expence  of 
 
 buying  it. You  will  read  my  letters  for  the 
 
 future,  on  no  days  but  Sundays:  However,  I  am 
 very  modeft,  and  your  commands  willeafily  filence 
 
 Tour^  &c. 
 
 LETTER  XXIV. 
 
 To  the  fa^ne. 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 
 JAM  under  an  unhappy  neceflity,  at  prefent,  of 
 •^  difobeying  your  Ladyfhip*s  commands.  How- 
 ever, 1  am  refolv'd  to  make  a  virtue  of  this  necef- 
 fity,  and  be  as  ftoical  as  I  can  on  the  occafion.  In 
 order  to  this  attainment,  I  have  been  reflecfting  on 
 the  uncertainty  of  human  fatisfadions,  and  placing 
 you  among  the  vanities  beneath  the  fun,  I  have 
 nicely  ballanced  the  pleafure  and  fatigue,  that  at- 
 tend every  earthly  joy,  and  fortify'd  my  mind  with 
 many  a  wife  maxim  in  profe  and  verfe. 
 
 'Tis  expe^ation  only  snakes  us  bleft^ 
 Enjoyment  dif appoints  us  at  the  bejh 
 
 But 
 
LETTERS.  63 
 
 But  as  Monfieur  Pafcal  lays,  U example  ne  nous  in- 
 firuit  'point  \  il  n'eft  jafnais  fi  parfaltemeni  femblahky 
 qu^il  n*y  ait  quelque  delicate  difference  •,  (^  c\ft  de  ctla 
 que  nous  attendons  que  notre  efperance  ne  fera  deceu  en 
 cette  occafion^  comme  en  l* autre.  Ainft  le  prefeni  ne 
 nous  fatisfaifant  ja?nais,  I'^efperance  nous  pire^  &  de 
 malheur  nous  mene  jufqu^  a  la  niort^  qui  en  eft  le  com- 
 hie  eterneL  *Tis  certainly  nothing  but  this  imagi- 
 nary difference,  fome  delicate  diflinflion,  fome  un- 
 try'd  circumflance,  that  makes  us  repeat  the  fame 
 experiment,  and  tir€  ourfelves  with  a  fairy  chafe 
 till  life  comes  to  a  period:  and  tho*  you  are  at  a 
 great  diftance  from  this,  'tis  time  for  me  to  grow 
 wife,  on  paft  experience,  and  fairly  to  give  up  my 
 hopes,  without  the  fatigue  of  any  further  trial. 
 
 Your  Ladyfliip  will  tell  me  (for  I  am  refolvM 
 to  fpeak  for  you,  as  well  as  myfelf)  that  I  might 
 have  excus'd  my  difobedience  to  your  commands, 
 without  this  tedious  moral  ledure  on  the  fubjed. 
 
 But  with  all  thefe  fair  pretences,  I  am  afraid  I 
 fhall  hardly  keep  the  chara6ler  of  a  reafonable 
 creature.  There  is  fomething  in  your  converfation 
 fo  elegant,  fo  agreeable,  that  it  looks  like  ftupi- 
 dity,  to  lofe  the  opportunity  of  enjoying  it :  and 
 I  mufb  own  the  hours  were  wing'd  with  pleafure 
 
 that  I  fpent  at .     But  this  is  only  humanely 
 
 fpeaking,  and  with  regard  to  the  prefent  world  ; 
 for  I  can't  carry  the  compliment  fo  far  as  to  fay  it 
 made  me  more  fit  for  the  next,  that  I  found  my- 
 felf mortify'd  to  the  love  of  tranficory  things,  and 
 better  prepar'd  to  die,  while  I  was  with  you.  It 
 had  quite  the  contrary  effed  •,  I  was  never  more 
 attach'd  to  earthly  objcds,  nor  more  unwilling  to 
 leave  them.  I  found  a  perfed  complacence  for 
 things  below,  and  loft  my  rclifli  for  fuperior  joys, 
 1  begun  to  be  in  love  with  this  vain  world,  and 
 was  very  much  difpos'd  to  take  up  my  re  It  in  it. 
 Your  conveifuion  had  entirely  reconcil'd  me  to 
 
 life. 
 
64  LETTERS. 
 
 life,  and  given  me  a  tafte  for  its  enjoyments  ;  and 
 I  am  hopelefs  of  conquering  my  inclinations  for 
 thefe  fublunary  things,  till  you  are  forgot  by. 
 
 Madam  y 
 
 Tour,  &c. 
 
 P.  S.  If  I  afTure  my  Lord ,  that  one  reafon 
 
 of  my  direding  my  letters  to  him,  is,  the  pleafure 
 of  writing  his  name  •,  fuch  a  well-bred  excufe  will, 
 I  hope,  obtain  his  Lordfliip's  pardon. 
 
 LETTER    XXV. 
 
 To  the  fa7ne* 
 
 Madam, 
 
 I  Must  exprefs  myfelf  very  aukwardly,  if  any 
 thing  I  fiid  could  bear  the  fenfe  your  Ladyfhip 
 has  o^iven  it.  My  words  had  certainly  no  refem- 
 blance  to  the  intention  of  my  thoughts,  on  that 
 occafion  •,  nor  were  at  all  agreeable  to  the  efteem 
 I  have  for  fuch  fuperior  merit  as  yours.  Your  let- 
 ters are  the  greateft  entertainment  this  world  gives 
 me;  and  this  is,  perhaps,  the  only  fatisfadlion  I 
 could  not  quietly  refign.  Your  filence  would  make 
 my  life  feem  like  a  perfed  blank,  and  as  infigni- 
 iicant  as  fleep. 
 
 Religion  ought  indeed  to  give  the  mind  a 
 greatnefs  and  equality  in  profperous  or  unhappy 
 events  •>  but  there  are  fome  inftances,  in  which  rea- 
 fon and  philofophy  feem  but  empty  names,  when 
 we  come  to  try  their  force.  I  am  afraid  they  would 
 prove  no  more  to  me,  if  any  unhappy  accident 
 Ihould  rob  me  of  the  pleafure  and  advantage  of 
 your  letters  -,  which  have  refieclions  in  them  fo  juft, 
 
 that 
 
LETTERS.  65 
 
 that  they  always  give  me  a  rational  and  elegant 
 delight. 
 
 1  MUST  fay  fomething  about  going  to  — —  :  I 
 have  no  arguments  againft  it,  that  relate  to  this 
 world;  and  I  intend  to  talk  no  more  of  the  next, 
 for  fear  you  fhould  think  me  quite  out  of  my  wits : 
 only  I  will  tell  you,  that  1  fhall  be  glad  to  fee 
 
 Mrs. ,  if  flie  comes ;   and  will  Ihow  her  the 
 
 church  and  the  meeting-houfe,  and  all  the  rarities 
 of  this  fine  town. 
 
 Rumours  of  wars  do  not  much  terrify  me  •,  I 
 have  fuch  a  partial  opinion  of  the  Englijh^  that  I 
 can't  but  fancy  they  muft  ftill  be  vidorious,  what- 
 ever wars  they  engage  in. 
 
 I  CANNOT  help  writing  on  this  paper,  for  I 
 fent  to  London  for  larger  ;  but  they  have  confin'd 
 me  juft  to  thefe  limits,  however  flowing  my  inven- 
 tion fhould  happen  to  be. 
 
 /  am^  &c. 
 
 LETTER     XXVL 
 
 "To  the  fa?ne. 
 
 Mad  am  ^ 
 
 T  would  be  impudence  In  me  to  complain,  un- 
 
 lefs  my  own  innocence  could  better  juftify  my 
 reproaches  •,  but  I  am  fo  much  greater  a  fufferer 
 by  your  filence,  than  your  Ladyfhip  can  polTibly 
 be  by  mine,  that  my  remonflrance  would  ■  not  be 
 il together  unjuft. 
 
 I  HAVE  not,  indeed,  vanity  enough  to  think, 
 :hat  nothing  could  have  kept  you  from  writing  to 
 me,  but  lofing  the  ufe  of  your  hands  ;  yet  I  am 
 fo  difinterefled,  that  I  had  rather  any  reaXon  fhould 
 
 Vol,  il  F  keep 
 
 I 
 
66  LETTERS. 
 
 keep  you  filent,  than  the  want  of  health  ;  and  if 
 you  will  but  oblige  me  with  the  favour  of  telling 
 me  you  are  alive  and  happy,  I  fhall  afk  no  more. 
 
 Indeed  'tis  fo  long  fince  I  heard  from  you,  that 
 I  begin  to  fancy  you  never  had  any  but  a  poetical 
 exiftence  5  that  my  happinefs  has  been  all  a  roman- 
 tic fcene  of  my  own  forming :  Perhaps  I  have  been 
 only  entertain'd  with  fome  pleafing  dream,  and 
 amufing  myfelf  with  a  glittering  fallacy ;  or  elfe> 
 between  fleeping  and  waking,  a  fairy  vifion  has 
 fmil'd  on  me,  and  then  for  ever  vanifh'd  from  my 
 view. 
 
 You  find  I  have  put  you  into  the  clafs  of  dreams 
 and  fhadows.  If  you  don't  write,  and  do  yourfelf 
 juftice,  I  fhall  ftill  doubt  whether  you  are  a  charm- 
 ing reality,  or  only  the  gay  produdlion  of  my  own 
 imagination.  I  long  to  know  whether  you  are 
 fomething  or  nothing,  that  I  may  either  be  filent, 
 or  addrefs  you  according  to  your  dignity. 
 
 I  AM  glad  my  Lord — — commends  the  CnVf^j/ 
 Hijlory  of  England',  the  two  firfb  volumes  are  very 
 entertaining,  and  I  am  pofitive  you  would  like 
 them.  If  I  had  children  or  grandchildren,  nephews 
 or  nieces,  they  fhould  read  them.  I  don't  love 
 hiftory  at  all,  I  affure  you;  but  thefe  books  are 
 fit  for  all  good  Chriflians,  that  love  their  country, 
 and  wilh  the  happinefs  and  liberty  of  mankind. 
 
 I  amy  &c» 
 
 LETr 
 
LETTERS.  67 
 
 LETTER    XXVIL       . 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madatn^ 
 /^OJVLETh  eflfays  mud  be  entertaining  to  your 
 ^  Ladyfhip,  if  they  are  new  to  you.  They  will 
 acquire  new  graces  to  me  from  your  approbation, 
 and  when  I  read  thofe  eflays  again,  it  will  be  with 
 double  pleafure. 
 
 You  are  fo  good  a  judge  of  what  is  graceful 
 and  proper  in  the  conduft  of  life,  that  you  feduce 
 me  into  an  aflent  to  your  reafons  for  young  people's 
 frequenting  Plays  ,  but  the  fame  reafons,  from  any 
 other  perfon,  would  not  have  convinc'd  me  half  fo 
 eafily,  after  what  Mr.  Lawh^s  wrote  with  fo  much 
 wit  and  piety  on  the  fubjed:.  But  in  the  view  of  the 
 world  and  a  public  life,  'tis  hardly  polTible  to  per- 
 fuade  one's  {df  to  be  fingular  5  and  perhaps  it  might 
 have  an  ill  effed:,  and  would  drefs  up  virtue  in  too 
 .rigid  a  figure. 
 
 I  LOVE  mufic  to  excefs,  and  yet  I  can't  help 
 thinking  it  a  perfed:  farce  for  reafonable  creatures 
 to  make  fuch  ferious  quarrels  for  mere  trifles,  and 
 feem  more  concern'd  for  the  entertainments  of  the 
 ilage,  than  for  the  joys  of  paradife. 
 
 It  would  be  vanity  in  me  to  make  an  excufe 
 for  my  fhort  letters  j  my  long  ones  need  it  much 
 more, 
 
 »      /  am^  &c^ 
 
 Fa  LET 
 
LETTER  S. 
 
 LETTER    XXVIIL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 '  Madam  ^ 
 
 I  Hope  you  think  me  dead,  as  I  certainly  ought 
 to  be  in  my  own  defence,  fince  that  would  be 
 an  unanfwerable  excufe  for  my  filence :  Not  but 
 that  I  fhall  have  things  of  greater  confequence  to 
 impart  to  you  from  the  immaterial  world,  and  I  ami 
 pcrfuaded  fliall  keep  my  inclinations  of  converfing 
 with  you  unchang'd.  If  I  retain  the  fenfe  of  any 
 paft  pleafures,  it  will  be  the  fatisfadion  that  fome 
 of  your  refletftions  have  given  me  ;  and  at  prefent 
 I  can't  fancy  a  more  agreeable  entertainment,  than 
 the  pleafure  of  informing  that  juft  and  noble  curi- 
 ofity,  that  you  fo  often  exprefs  concerning  a  future 
 ftate. 
 
 I  READ  Mr.  IVatts\  fermons  with  fin  cere  de- 
 light, but  I  did  not  commend  them  to  you,  for 
 fear  you  fhould  think  me  more  partial  to  the  Dif- 
 fenters  than  I  really  am. 
 
 'Tis  an  eafy  tranfition  from  thofe  fermbns  to 
 Mr.  RolW^  fongs,  which  are  exceeding  fine.  This 
 is  a  very  good  paraphrafe  on  St.  Paul  to  the  Co- 
 rinthians : 
 
 Bevianiy  o  Don.,  godiam,  e^e  il  giorno 
 Prefto  e  al  ritGrno^  prefto  al  parlir, 
 
 Di  giovinezta  godia7no  il  fiore^ 
 Poi  I'ullim'  ore  lafciam  venir. 
 
 Let  us  eat  and  drink.,  for  to-morrow  we  die.  i  Cor. 
 chap.  XV.  ver.  32.  I  have  fet  down  the  verfe  and 
 chapter,  becaufe  Mr.  RoUi  may  not  know  where  to 
 borrow  a  Concordance,  and  I  am  in  hopes  he  will 
 read  the  whole  chapter,  it  will  do  him  no  manner 
 of  harm.  I  shall 
 
LETTERS.  69 
 
 I  SHALL  ex.adly  obey  my  Lord- in  return- 
 ing the  paper  he  has  Tent,  in  letters  to  your  Lady- 
 Ihip,  on  condition  I  may  indulge  my  talent  of  im- 
 pertinence, and  not  be  ftridly  confin'd  to  write 
 common  fenfe. 
 
 If  there  are  fairies,  (as  I  am  not  fuch  an  infidel 
 as  to  deny)  they  are  certainly  very  happy  beings, 
 and  poiTels'd  of  a  great  many  privileges  which  un- 
 happy mortals  want :  If  you  could  convey  yourielf 
 in  a  letter,  I  fhoald  receive  it  with  great  tranfport ; 
 for  my  impatience  to  fee  you  is  much  greater  and 
 more  juft  than  yours  can  be.  But  this  world  has 
 no  unmingled  happinefs ;  and  I'll  endeavour,  with 
 as  much  tranquility  as  I  can,  .to  wait  till  death 
 draws  the  curtain,  and  unfolds  the  fcen-es  of  immor- 
 tal pleafure. 
 
 Here  you  will  difmifs  me,  and  give  me  leave 
 to  lubfcribe  myfelf 
 
 Tour,  &c, 
 
 LETTER    XXIX. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 TH  E  news  of  the  King's  death  has  given  my 
 thoughts  a  very  ferious  turn.  'Tis  impoffible 
 not  to  be  atfedted  with  fuch  a  melancholy  inftance 
 of  the  vanity  of  all  human  joys. 
 
 Illiiftrious  Jhadow  I  where  are  thy  defigm  ? 
 ny  glorious  frofpe^s  and  heroic  fchemes  ? 
 ^'hou  and  thy  thoughts^  in  one  unhappy  day^ 
 together  perijh^  and  are  [een  no  more. 
 The  pro77iis*d  Uejjings^  the  unbounded  hopes 
 Thy  virtues  gave,  for  ever  difappear. 
 
 F  3  '  The 
 
70  LETTERS. 
 
 The  deaths  of  monarchs  fpeak  a  thoufand  fo- 
 lemn  truths,  and  are  the  mod  pathetic  leftures  of 
 mortality  *,  yet  ftill  the  living  are  infenfibJe  of  thefe 
 facred  Mementd^s^  and  go  on  in  the  fame  vain  pur- 
 fuits.  Grandeur  and  pleafure  appear  in  the  fame 
 enchanting  forms  *,  till  death  difToives  the  fpell,  and 
 puts  the  fovereign  and  the  flave  on  a  level.  All 
 diftindtions  are  then  loft,  but  thofe  which  virtue 
 gives  ;  and  thofe  muft  be  great  to  fuch  as  have 
 been  benefactors  to  mankind,  and  a  nation's  glory 
 and  protedion. —  But  thefe  grave  reflections  ought 
 to  give  place  to  the  public  joy,  in  which  I  know 
 you  fincerely  Ihare,  and  juftly  deferve  to  be  long 
 an  ornament  in  the  court  of  a  Queen,  who  is  the 
 pride  and  pleafure  of  a  great  and  happy  people. 
 
 What  a  dialedt  am  I  got  into?  this  is  talking 
 out  of  chara6ler,  and  wandering  from  my  rural 
 fimplicity.  The  fylvan  fcenes  are  much  more  fuited 
 to  my  tafbe  and  language  :  Where,  amid  ft  all  the 
 tumults  of  the  world,  I  find  repofe  in  an  inglorious 
 folitude,  which  at  once  indulges  the  indolence  of 
 my  temper,  and  gives  me  leifure  to  refled  on  the 
 vanity  of  human  life. 
 
 To  your  Ladyfliip's  great  confolation,  I  have 
 but  jufl  room  enough  to  fubfcribe  myfeif 
 
 Tour^  &c. 
 
 •A-"     '•ly*     "^tfirt     'A-»     •«ftn     'tft-»     ~ft»-«  )f\     '<IV"»     '4iA    f^^n     tfV*     "d*^     ""^i^     "An     'il^ 
 
 LETTER    XXX. 
 To  the  fa??7e. 
 
 Madam  y 
 
 T  Am  very  fond  of  politics,  when  writ  in  fuch 
 •*-  foft  and  gentle  language  as  yours.  You  have 
 infpir'd  me  with  a  public  fpirit,  and  charm'd  me 
 
 fo 
 
LETTERS.  71 
 
 fo  much  with  your  defcription  of  the  King  and  his 
 
 Parhamenc,  that  I  wifh  you  were  to  attend  her  Ma^ 
 
 jefty  to  the  houie  on  all   important  debates.     My 
 
 Lord 's  addrefs  and  eloquence  could  not  exceed 
 
 the  beauty  of  your  relation. 
 
 I  AM  exceedingly  touch'd  with  the fe  fine  lines 
 of  Mr,  Pitt,  on  the  late  King. 
 
 So  well  he  lov*d  the  public  liberty. 
 
 His  mercy  fet  the  private  captive  free. 
 
 Soon  as  our  royal  angel  came  in  view, 
 
 The  prifons  hurft,  the'Jlarting  hinges  flew  y 
 
 The  dungeons  open'd,  and  rejign'd  their  prey 
 
 To  joy^  to  life^  to  freedom,  aitd  the  day : 
 
 The  chains  drop  off,  the  grateful  captives  rear 
 
 Their  hands  unmanacled  in  praife  and  prafr. 
 
 Had  thus  vicarious  Csefar  fought  to  pleafe. 
 
 And  ruPd  the  vanquijh'd  world  with  arts  like  thefe  i 
 
 The  gen'rous  Brutus  had  not  fcorn'd  to  bend. 
 
 But  funk  the  rigid  patriot  in  the  friend ; 
 
 Jnd  Cato  reconciled,  had  ne^er  difdain'd 
 
 To  live  a  fubjeB,  where  a  Brunfwic  reign' d. 
 
 However   libertine    principles  would  degrade 
 human  nature,  I  find  there  is  fuch  a  thing  as  difin- 
 terefted  friendfhip,  and  a  fincere  concern  for  an- 
 other's happinefs,  remote  from  any  hopes  of  per- 
 fonal  advantage  or  reputation :  But  this  is  a  height 
 of  benevolence,  which  only  religion  can  infpire  ; 
 and  without  that,  all  the  fpecious  names  of  honour 
 and  beneficence  are   mere   mockery,  and  mfolent 
 flights  of  vanity.     My  concern  for  you  is  perhaps 
 the  ilamp  of  heaven  on   my  foul,  fmce  it  chiefly 
 regards  your  future  felicity.  Whatever  other  change 
 death  may  make  on  my  mind,  this  difpofition  muft 
 rife  to  a  more  generous  height  in  the  regions  of 
 
 J?  ^  pertect 
 
72  LETTER  S. 
 
 perfed  amity  and  blifs.  I  often  plcafe  myfelf  with 
 the  thought,  that  departed  fpirits  fupply'the  place 
 of  guardian  angels  to  their  friends  j  that  they  de- 
 light to  follow  them  in  their  folitary  walks,  and 
 watch  their  nightly  flumbers,  and  make  impreffions 
 on  their  fleeping  fancy,  to  warn  them  of  approach- 
 ing dangers,  'Tis  not  unlikely,  that  the  tempefts 
 of  human  pafTions  are  fometimes  compos'd  by  the 
 foft  infpiring  whifpers  of  thofe  propitious  beings, 
 while  the  feats  of  joy  have  open'd  their  glories  in 
 vifionary  fcenes  to  their  fleeping  imagination. 
 
 One  would  think  I  were  got  into  fome  golden 
 dream,  and  fancy'd  myfelf  in  paradife.  I  find 
 fome  oceafion  to  ask  myfelf,  whether  I  am  awake 
 or  afieep,  dead  or  alive?    among  the  number  of 
 
 mortals,  or  departed  fpirits? Whatever  I  am 
 
 tlfe,  'tis  with  great  certainty  that  I  fubfcribe  my- 
 felf ^ 
 
 Tour,  &c. 
 
 LETTER    XXXI, 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam, 
 
 YO  U  R  letter  is  but  fliort,  yet  it  difcovers  the 
 anxiety  of  your  mind.  1  hope  my  Lord 's 
 
 ilinefs  is  not  dangerous,  and  that  your  Ladyfhip's 
 concern  is  only  the  effed  of  a  tender  mother's  af- 
 ledion.  However  it  is,  virtue  in  diftrefs  touches 
 the  mmd  in  its  foftefl  fprings ;  and  'tis  impofTible 
 lor  me  to  exprefs  how  much  f  fympathize  with  you 
 in  this  afHiaion.  But  how  fruitlefs  and  vain  are 
 the  good  wiflies  of  mortals  to  one  another !  The 
 mofl  benencentdifporition  cannot  relieve  us  in  the 
 leafl  diftrefs  5  all  created  things  dilappoint  our  ex-- 
 
 pe(5lationSo 
 
LETTERS.  73 
 
 pedations,  and  vanifh  into  nothing  :  'tis  all  demon- 
 flration  then,  that  the  world  is  vanity  ;  every  exi- 
 gence of  life  proves  it,  without  a  dull  chain  of 
 reafoning. 
 
 ^Tis  Heaven  alone  can  thenfupport  the  foul. 
 And  bear  it  up  in  all  its  native  greatnefs  ; 
 Dependent  only  on  that  mighty  pow*f 
 ^       That  fix'd  the  earth,  that  fet  the  feas  their  hounds^ 
 And  hid  the  fun  in  all  its  glory  rife. 
 
 People  may  talk  at  this  rate  very  much  at  their 
 eale.- — While  I  am  writing,  I  am  fure  you  think 
 in  a  much  better  manner  \  but  'tis  a  pleafure  fome- 
 times  to  inform  people  of  what  they  knew  before. 
 
 O  purfue, 
 
 Purfue,  the  fac'red  dilates  of  your  foul. 
 Which  lead  you  on  to  virtue  I  Let  not  danger. 
 Nor  the  encumbering  world  make  faint  your  pur pofe  ^ 
 Affifting  angels  fhall  conduct  your  fteps. 
 Bring  you  to  hlife,  and  crown  your  end  with  peace. 
 
 I  am,  i^c. 
 
 J.  E  T  T  E  R     XXXir. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam, 
 
 YOUR  illnefs  will  defend  you  now  from  mv 
 complaints  of  the  fhortnefs  of  your  letter  •  I 
 am  niore  concerned  for  the  caufe,  than  for  any  thins: 
 1  muft  neceflarily  fufferi^y  the  effed.  I  haveplac'd 
 1^0  great  a  part  of  my  happinefsin  converfing  this 
 
 way 
 
74  LETTERS. 
 
 way  with  your  Ladyfhlp  ;  and  am  now  almoll  con- 
 vinc'd,  that  an  abfolute  indifterence  and  freedom 
 from  all  the  agreeable  enjoyments  that  amufe  the 
 mind,  is  the  nearefl  way  to  the  reft  it  purfues.  The 
 height  of  friendfhip,  as  well  as  the  excefs  of  love, 
 is  always  reftlefs  and  uneafy ;  fqme  fort  of  diffi- 
 dence mingles  with  the  moft  flattering  imagina- 
 tions we  have. 
 
 I  WRITE,  but  am  never  pleas'd  with  any  cir- 
 cumftance  in  my  letters,  befides  their  fmcerity  ,  and  , 
 that  betrays  me  into  a  freedom  and  negligence  in 
 my  expreffions,  which  I  am  fure  a  temper  fo  art- 
 lefs  and  generous  as  yours  will  excufe  ;  while  you 
 always  appear  to  my  thoughts  with  every  advan- 
 tage that  virtue  or  nature  can  give.  If  there  are 
 words  of  facred  importance,  they  are  thofe  of 
 unaffeded  truth  and  friendfhip,  and  to  thefe  my 
 foul  pays  a  homage  fo  religious,  that  no  confidera- 
 tion  could  tempt  me  to  be  guilty  of  difguife. 
 
 Your  Ladyfhip's  diforder  gives  me  many  pen- 
 five  moments,  but  I  hope  your  next  will  bring  me 
 the  news  of  your  perfed:  recovery. 
 
 /  am^  &c. 
 
 LETTER    XXXIIL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 
 I  Have  waited  for  the  letter  you  promis'd  me 
 with  great  impatience  ;  but  whether  you  write 
 or  not,  you  find  I  am  refolv'd  to  moleft  your— 
 repofe,  I  was  going  to  fay,  but  I  believe  I  may  recal 
 that  foft  word  for  one  of  a  more  vexatious  meaning, 
 and  flatter  myfelf,  that  I  only  interrupt  a  fort  of 
 magnificent  hurry,  in  which  your  Ladyfliip  is  en- 
 fyacx'd,  I  can't 
 
LETTERS.  75 
 
 I  can't  perfuade  myfelf  to  impute  your  long 
 filencc  to  inclination ;  but  have  invented  a  hundred 
 other  accidents  that  have  depriv'd  me  of  the  plea- 
 fure  of  your  Ladyfhip's  letters.  So  rooted  a  thing 
 is  vanity  in  human  nature !  and  indeed  it  is  one 
 great  privilege  of  our  being,  and  makes  us  as  well 
 latisfy'd  with  fome  pleafing  fidtion  as  the  mofl:  real 
 happinefs.  For  my  part,  I  am  always  eafy,  as  long 
 as  I  can  perfuade  myfelf  not  to  call  in  queftioa 
 my  own  merit;  which,  however  imaginary,  leaves 
 me  in  perfe(5t  tranquility,  till  a  fit  of  modefty 
 raifes  fome  doubts  and  fcruples  to  interrupt  my  fe- 
 licity. 
 
 My  brother  begs  you  to  accept  a  volume  of 
 lives  compos'd  by  Mr.  Rowe,  I  believe  I  am  not 
 partial  in  faying,  there  never  was  a  better  judge 
 of  the  beauties  of  the  Englljh  language,  and  of  the 
 graces  of  human  life,  than  Mr.  Rowe  ;  and  as  they 
 were  publifti'd  at  the  importunity  of  two  or  three 
 of  the  author's  friends,  who  are  perfons  of  great 
 wit  and  learning,  1  don't  queftion  they  will  pafs 
 for  finifh'd  eflays. 
 
 The  character  of  Selifna  in  the  Travels  of  Cyrus 
 charms  me.  I  fancy,  if  you  was  in  the  fame  cir- 
 cumitances,  you  would  have  aded  with  a  fpirit  as 
 heroic. 
 
 2  am^  Sec, 
 
 LETTER    XXXIV. 
 
 To  the  fa7ne. 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 
 YOUR  good-nature,    I  am   fure,    would  not 
 fuffer  you  to  be  filent  fo  long,   but  for  fome 
 regl  pr  imagin'd  offence  that  I  have  given  you.    I 
 
 cannot 
 
76 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 cannot  recoiled  what,  becaufe  I  forget  my  letters 
 
 as  foon  as  they  are  feal'd  ;  but  certainly,  Lady , 
 
 I  could  as  foon  defign  an  injury  to  my  own  foul,  as 
 to  you.  I  confefs,  1  have  the  guilt  of  too  many 
 idle  and  unguarded  words  to  anfwer  for  to  Heaven  ; 
 but  I  appeal  to  you,  if  ever  you  knew  me  make 
 an  envious  or  an  ill-natur'd  reflexion  on  any  perfon 
 upon  earth,  or  defcend  to  any  thing  of  artifice  or 
 dilcTuife  in  all  my  condud.  in  what  interval  of 
 madnefs,  what  moment  of  folly  and  darknefs,  could 
 I  fiy  any*  thing  difobliging  to  you  ?  I  muft  be  lu- 
 natic, and  under  the  influence  of  fome  very  fantaftic 
 planet  5  an  error  mull  be  involuntary,  that  was  fo 
 contrary  to  the  difpofition  of  my  mind,  and  quite 
 the  reverfe  to  my  fettled  inclinacions.  If  I  did  not 
 know  how  perfed:ly  innocent  I  am  of  the  leaft  in- 
 tention to  difobiige  you,  Madam,  I  fhould  never 
 forgive  myfelf  for  afting  fo  contrary  to  the  rules 
 of  juftice  and  gratitude.  Befides  your  own  merit, 
 which,  without  any  other  motive,  would  fecure  my 
 •admiration  and  efteem,  you  have  added  to  this  a 
 thoufand  obligations  for  the  advantages  of  your 
 converlation,  which  command  my  higheil  gratitude, 
 Thefe  motives,  I  hope,  would  govern  me,  if  I  was 
 a  mere  Pagan,  and  unacquainted  with  the  facred 
 rules  of  the  Chriftian  religion. 
 
 IFere  fields  of  lights  and  Ueft  ethereal  ;plains^ 
 ne  gay  conceits  of  vifwnary  brains ;  ^ 
 
 Were  there  no  palms ^  nor  Jlarry  cro'ujns  prepared 
 The  glorious  toll  of  virtue  to  reward. 
 
 If  there  was  no  future  recompence  for  virtue,  nor 
 punifhment  for  vice,  there  is  fomething  in  my  na- 
 ture that  would  keep  me  from  ingratitude  and  breach 
 of  friendfhlp.  My  citeem  for  you  has  been  as  fin- 
 cere  as  my  love  of  virtue  and  happinefs,  and  will 
 be  fo  till  I  meet  you  in  the  happy  realms  of  peace 
 
 an4 
 
LETTERS,  77 
 
 and  perfe<5l:  beneficence  -,  till  then,  we  fliall  never 
 be  free  from  error  and  miftakes. 
 
 H^e  always  dream,  the  life  of  man's  a  dream. 
 In  which  freflj  Hnmdts  agitate  his  breaft  *, 
 Till  the  kind  hand  of  death  unlocks  the  chain^ 
 Which  clogged  the  noble  and  afj-nring  fonl^ 
 And  then  we  truly  wake. 
 
 This  may  perhaps  be  all  the  effe6l  of  the  fpJeea 
 and  a  gloomy  turn  of  thought:  I  wifh  it  may  ;  but 
 I  am  fo  capable  of  every  fort  of  folly  and  inadver- 
 tency, that  I  have  reafon  to  fufpedl  myfelf  rather 
 than  you.  Whatever  is  the  caufe  of  your  filence, 
 I  am,  with  the  greatefl  fmcerity, 
 
 Tour,  &c. 
 
 LETTER    XXXV. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam, 
 
 YOU  will  find,  by  my  laft  letter,  how  much 
 uneafmefs  your  filence  gave  me.  However, 
 it  will  ferve  for  an  apology  for  all  my  future  im- 
 pertinences. 
 
 Mrs. has  pleas'd  me,  by  letting  me  know, 
 
 that  you  made  one  of  the  beil  figures,  for  perfon 
 and  drefs,  at  the  coronation.  But,  ye  vain  gran- 
 deurs and  fantaflic  am.ufements,  how  little  fatisfac- 
 tion  can  you  give?  If  you,  Madam,  are  not  hap- 
 py, where  are  the  boafts  of  greatnefs  and  pleafure? 
 
 Where  dwells  this  peace,  this  freedom  of  the  mind  ? 
 Where,  but  in  fJjades  remote  from  human  kind. 
 
 In 
 
78 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 In  flowery  vales ^  where  nymphs  and  Jhepherds  meet^ 
 But  never  comes  within  the  palace  gate, 
 
 Ld  Landsdown^ 
 
 Mr.  Ramfef^  Life  of  Cyrus  will  be  perfedtly  en- 
 tertaining to  me  •,  I  have  never  feen  it^  and  am 
 impatient  to  read  it ;  for  it  has  been  recommended 
 to  me  by  a  very  good  judge ;  but  I  prefer  your 
 tafle  to  every  body's  ^Vk^  and  ihall  read  it  with 
 great  partiality. 
 
 I  WISH  your  Ladyihip  had  the  privilege  of  being 
 in  two  places  at  the  fame  time,  that  you  might 
 enjoy  your  unenvy'd  country  delights,  and  fhine 
 in  a  court  that  will  perhaps  be  the  glory  of  the 
 Britifh  hiftory,  till  the  fun  fhall  meafure  days  and 
 months  no  more.  And  yet  to  live  for  the  public 
 is  but  glorious  mifery.  What  exalted  mortal,  in 
 the  laft  hour  of  life,  would  not  refign  all  the  ad- 
 vantages of  greatnefs  and  power,  for  a  few  moments 
 of  leifure  and  obfcurity  ?  when  nature  in  her  ex- 
 tremeil  agonies 
 
 Starts  at  the  awful  profpcoi  of  the  deepy 
 Still  fears  t^ explore  the  dark  and  unknown  way^ 
 Still  backward  fJmnks^  and  ?neditates  delay y 
 Spins  out  the  time^  ajid  lingers  in  debate^ 
 Difpleas'd  to  try  an  uexperienc^d  flate. 
 
 I  AM  (it  being  a-propo$  you  will  think) 
 
 Tour^  &c. 
 
 LET. 
 
LETTERS.        .79 
 
 LETTER     XXXVL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 YOU  need  not  be  afham'd  to  own  you  are 
 alive;  'tis  a  joy  to  the  world,  and  the  moft 
 agreeable  news  your  Ladyfhip could  have  told  me; 
 it  heightens  my  enjoyment  of  the  charming  folitude 
 thro'  which  Mr.  fhomfon's  mufe  leads  the  thought* 
 with  a  juft  and  reafonable  delight. 
 
 There  is  a  fort  of  noble  melancholy  that  the 
 mind  loves  to  indulge  -,  and,  amidft  fome  of  the 
 greateft  gaieties,  we  are  confcious  that  we  came  into 
 the  world  for  fome  more  important  end  than  to 
 laugh.  Not  that  I  can  pretend  'tis  a  crime  to  laugh, 
 to  you  that  have  been  fo  frequent  a  witnefs  of  my 
 difpofition  to  ic  >  but  certainly  mirth  ought  to  be 
 the  effedl  of  chance  and  furprize,  and  not  of  deli- 
 beration and  defign.  Farce  and  burlefque  appear 
 to  me  an  indignity  to  human  nature,  when  propos'd 
 as  an  entertainment  for  reafonable  and  immortal 
 beings,  who  are  in  fufpence  and  abfolutely  uncer- 
 tain, whether  their  future  deftiny  will  be  the  ex- 
 treme of  happinefs  or  mifery.— — It  is  well  for 
 you.  Madam,  that  I  am  interrupted,  or  you  would 
 have  thought  me  at  defiance  with  fmging  and  laugh- 
 
 ing. 
 
 Any  thing  of  your  Ladyfhip's  drawing  I  lliall 
 highly  value,  and  I  am  extremely  pleas'd  that  you 
 are  extending  the  limits  of  your  happinefs  j  for  no- 
 thing can  more  fincerely  amufc  the  mind  than  imi- 
 tating the  fcenes  of  nature. 
 
 When  from  the  mingled  Jirength  of  Jhade  and  light 
 
 A  new  creation  rifes  to  the  fight ; 
 
 ^he  Uooming  faring  appears  at  your  comfnand. 
 
 And  fmiling  nature  waits  upn  your  hand, 
 
 'Tis 
 
So 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 *Tis  no  matter  whether  they  are  the  ftone-trees 
 that  you  rally  me  for,  or  the  four-footed  birds,  'tis 
 the  propriety  that  gives  the  pleafure.    I  fhall  finifh 
 
 Lady 's  fan   very  foon  :    I  employ  my  pencil 
 
 for  her  with  uncommon  delight. 
 
 /  aitiy  &c. 
 
 LETTER    XXXVII. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  y 
 
 1^.  H  E  formality  of  wafting  paper,  aiid  begin- 
 ning at  the  bottom  of  the  page,  is  a  very 
 good  expedient  for  a  dull  invention  \  and  in  no  other 
 cafe  am  I  (lave  to  ceremony,  nor  in  that  always ; 
 for  I  have  no  great  averfion  to  nonfenfe,  unlefs 
 when  I  am  writing  to  your  Ladylhip ;  and  then, 
 tho'  I  have  a  thoufand  things  to  fay,  the  language 
 of  mortal  men  does  not  feem  expreflive  of  my 
 thoughts, 
 
 I  HAVE  been  reading  Harry  the  fifth  in  ^hah- 
 [pear J  which  gives  the  mod  folemn  image  in  the 
 world  of  the  end  of  human  greatnefs.  Death  feems 
 to  enter  a  cottage  only  as  a  gentle  deliverer  from 
 the  miferies  of  human  life,  but  into  courts  and  the 
 feats  of  grandeur  with  infult  and  terror.  To  Ian- 
 guifh  under  a  gilded  canopy,  to  expire  on  fott  and 
 downy  pillows,  and  give  up  the  ghoft  in  ftate,  has 
 a  more  gloomy  afped,  than  at  the  call  of  nature 
 to  expire  on  a  gralTy  turf^  and  refign  the  breathlefs 
 clay  back  to  its  proper  element.  What  does  a 
 crowd  of  friends  or  flatterers  fignify  in  that  impor- 
 tant hour  to  the  moft  glorious  mortal?  which  of 
 his  numerous  attendants  would  ftand  the  arreft  of 
 death,  defcend  into  the  filent  prifon  of  the  grave 
 
 for 
 
LETTERS.  8i 
 
 for  him,  or  anfwer  the  fummons  of  the  fupreme 
 tribunal?  Yoti'il  forgive  me,  Madam,  for  dwelling 
 folong  on  this  mortifying  fubjed;  if  thefe  thing's 
 were  mere  ficflions,  I  fhould  be  glad  never  to  men- 
 tion nor  think  of  them. 
 
 I   HAVE  finifh'd  a  fan  for  Mrs.- ,  with 
 
 Lady 's  pidure  in   it,  as  exact  as  I  could 
 
 remember  her  charming  face  ;  but  the  wit  and  ele- 
 gance in  it  no  pencil  can  defcribe. 
 
 Jam,  by  a  thoufand  obligations^ 
 
 Tour^  &c. 
 
 LETTER    XXXVIIL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 OTH  your  letters  found  me  a  miferable  mor- 
 >  tal,  to  my  great  mortification  ;  for  I  Ihould 
 be  glad  to  commence  a  higher  order  of  beings, 
 than  I  might  converfe  with  your  Ladyfhip  more 
 on  a  hvd, 
 
 I  HAVE  read  Dr.  Burnet's  defcription  of  the 
 Millennium  with  fo  much  pleailire,  that  I  am  not 
 furpri^'d  fuch  a  fubjea:  lliould  give  you  fo  many 
 agreeable  images,  and  be  more  entertaining  to  a 
 temper  like  yours,  than  either  vanity  or  fcandal  •, 
 the  lafl,  the  policeft  converfation  on  earth  cannot 
 make  tolerable. 
 
 I  HAVE  read  the*letters  your  Ladyfhip  recom- 
 mended to  me,  and  like  them,  without  exception, 
 on  your  approbation  -,  that  motive  would  tempt 
 me  to  wiOi  I  had  writ  them,  if  I  had  the  lead  am- 
 bition of  being  an  author.     But  I  need  not  juftify 
 
 *  Fnef7(!/I?ip  in  Death. 
 
 Vol.  II.  G  myfelf 
 
82  LETTERS. 
 
 myfelf  fo  feriouny  on  this  fubjea:.     The  reading 
 of  the  fourteenth,  I  confefs,  put  me  in  mind  of  dear 
 
 Lady .  t  i-     i 
 
 Lady .  has  very  much  obhg'd  me  by  the 
 
 fio-ht  of  thofe  fine  verfes  on  a  lady.     The  view  of 
 
 fiich  a  charafter  gives  the  mind  a  great  delight, 
 
 in  Hiewing  to  what  an  height  of  perfedion  mortals 
 
 can  rife  •,  the  mere  pofFibility  of  fuch  virtue  pleafes, 
 
 becaufe  it  is  ftill  human,  and  may  be  imitated. 
 
 Your  opinion  does  neceffarily  govern  me,  when 
 
 I  know  it,  and  I  am  partial  or  prejudic'd,  not  from 
 
 any  affeded  complaifance,  but  from  a  real  afcen- 
 
 dant  you  have  over  my  judgment ;  bur  in  this  cafe 
 
 i  mvG  my  own  opinion,  I  mud  own  I  like  the  Pro- 
 
 vok'd  Husband',  there  feems  to  me   to  be  nature, 
 
 wit  and  good  morals  in  it,  and  I  can't  but  hope 
 
 you   like  it.     Shake/pear's  Play  I   have  not   feen. 
 
 What  is  become  of  Mr.  Rolli  and  Milton  ?  I  hope 
 
 he  has  found  the  book  that  was  loft  •,  'tis  pity  his 
 
 nation  fliould  be  robb'd  of  fuch  a  noble  tranQation. 
 
 I  a7n^  &c. 
 
 LETTER     XXXIX. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam^ 
 
 F  you  will  not  let  me  write  to  you,  I  am  refolv'd 
 
 _   to  write  to  my  Lord -,  and  Lady . 
 
 \  know,  by  my  own  heart,  you  will  not  be  angry 
 v/ith  me  in  earneft  -,  if  you  take  ever  fo  much  pains 
 to  be  fo,  you  have  fo  little  malignity  in  your  tem- 
 per, and  muft  be  wicked  with  fo  much  difficulty, 
 that  when  you  make  the  trial,  you  will  delpair  of 
 fucceedino;  in  the  attempt.  There  will  be  peace 
 °  becwixc 
 
 I 
 
LETTERS:  83 
 
 betwixt  us  in  this  world  ;  on  my  (ide  'tis  nature^ 
 *fcis  necefTityi 
 
 Come  l^acqiia  [cenie^  el  fiioco — 
 
 And  in  the  next  world  nothing  will  break  the  fe- 
 ries  of  an  eternal  amity.  I  ihall  then  ad  in  the 
 perfedion  of  my  reafon  •,  but  while  I  am  a  mortal, 
 I  Ihall  certainly  fay  and  do  a  thoufand  foolifh 
 things :  *Tis  the  privilege  of  human  nature^  and 
 I  ihall  infill  on  my  claim  •,  my  pretenfions  are  evi- 
 dent and  indifputable,  and  1  am  fare  you  have  noc 
 the  confcience  to  defirc  me  to  be  infallible,  and 
 free  from  nliftakes  both  of  opinion  and  pradlice. 
 But  noc  any  of  my  errors  has  given  me  fo  much 
 Uneafinefs,  as  fpcaking  to  you,  in  my  laft,  in  fo 
 artful  a  manner,  and  ufmg  any  fort  of  difguife* 
 It  has  put  me  more  in  the  fpleen  than  I  thought 
 any  misfortune  could  have  done  ;  and  I  think  (if 
 I  know  myfelf)  I  would  not  be  guilty  of  another 
 equivocation,  if  I  might  gain  the  empire  of  the 
 world  by  it.  I  owe  this  confefTion  to  the  rules  of 
 virtue  and  friendlhip.  And  now  that  my  mind  is 
 at  peace  with  itfelf,  I  find  that  nothing  can  efcape 
 the  peneration  of  your  genius.  I  confefs  it  would 
 have  been  a  pleafure  to  me  to  know  your  Lady- 
 Ihip's  opinion,  if  you  had  not  known  the  author; 
 but  I  hope  the  reft  of  the  world  will  continue  igno- 
 rant, except  tv/o  or  three  who  know  my  imperti- 
 nent manner  of  thinking.  However,  I  am  pretty 
 quiet,  'tis  a  harmlefs  folly  *,  and  as  all  the  events 
 and  charadters  are  fidlion  ,  if  it  does  nobody  no 
 good,  it  will  do  them  no  hurt :  And  I  believe  I 
 fhall  content  myfelf  for  the  future  with  copying  the 
 vanities  of  my  imagination  for  your  perufal  \  only 
 I  muft  warn  you  to  beware  of  reading  them  when 
 you  are  inclin'd  to  (leep,  for  fear  a  mortal  lethargy 
 fhould  be  the  confequence.  Next  time  I  write,  I 
 will  copy .  fomething  for  your  Ladyfhip,  but  'tis 
 
 G  2  pretty 
 
LETTERS. 
 
 pretty  long,  and  not  quite  finifh'd,  and  you  had 
 need  be  a  little  prepar'd  for  the  heavy  penance  of 
 reading  any  more  of  my  works. 
 
 /  am^  &c. 
 
 LETTER    XL. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 
 1AM  fincerely  griev'd  that  you  had  not  my 
 letter,  to  prevent  your  fending  for  me.  I  dare 
 not  think  of  a  journey  in  my  prefent  circumftances. 
 1  have  a  weight  on  my  fpirits  like  death.  My 
 humour  is  not  fplenetic  without  fome  real  caufe  ; 
 and  I  am  not  fit  now  to  enjoy  my  friends,  nor 
 hardly  myfelf,  which  is  not  a  common  accident  to 
 my  temper.  As  I  am  now,  if  I  fhoudd  fee  you  fo 
 ill  and  languifhing  as  when  I  was  laft  at •,.  no- 
 thing on  earth  could  fupport  me  in  fuch  a  melan- 
 choly fcene.  But  I  am  at  prefent  detained,  by  ex- 
 pecting fome  relations  of  Mr.  Rowe^Sy  who  fent  me 
 word,  they  would  come  and  fee  me  for  a  day  or 
 two ;  and  I  would  always  fhew  them  the  refp€(5l 
 they  merit. 
 
 I  AM  glad,  for  your  fake,  that  the  library  is 
 
 got  to ;    but  for  me,  when  I  am  capable 
 
 of  enjoying  any  thing,  your  converfation  has  charms 
 
 snough  to  entertain 
 
 Tour,  &c. 
 
 LET- 
 
LETTERS.  8's 
 
 LETTER     XLL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam^ 
 
 1^  H  E  woods  and  flreams,  and  country  fcenes, 
 to  which  you  are  retiring,  will  yield,  to  a 
 temper  like  yours,  more  real  deJights  than  all  the 
 noify  pleafures  of  the  town  ;  and  yet,  if  there  was 
 «o  fuperior  happinefs  to  be  fecur'd,  I  fhould  think 
 plays^and  opera's  the  height  of  human  enjoyments. 
 I  can't  be  guilty  of  diflimulation,  and  pretend  to 
 an  indifference  for  thofe  entertainments,  on  any- 
 other  view,  but  the  hopes  of  fomething  more  noble 
 ^nd  lading,  in  exchange  for  prefent  pleafures ;  other- 
 wife  the  birds  might  fmg,  and  the  rivulets  murmur 
 at  their  leifure  for  me. 
 
 What  fhall  I  fay  to  exprefs  the  remorfe  and 
 confufion  I  am  under  at  the  knowledge  of  your 
 difappointment  ?  But  really  you  have  no  lofs  by 
 my  abfence ;  for  I  am  fo  ftupid,  that  not  even  your 
 converfation  could  awake  me  into  life  and  itni^. 
 I  have  no  prejudice  againft  myfelf,  and  therefore 
 you  may  believe  there  is  no  injuftice  in  this  con- 
 feffion.  But  I  have  ftill  fome  fenfe  of  morality 
 left,  and  own  myfelf  under  an  obligation  to  wait 
 on  you  ;  if  in  mere  charity  to  yourfelf,  you  will 
 not  fufpend  my  happinefs  till  next  fpring.  As  I 
 am  not  yet  well,  if  I  come  now,  I  fhould  not  lee 
 any  body  in  the  houfe  live  at  eafe,  till  I  am  fent 
 back  again.  As  long  as  I  have  a  whimfy  in  my 
 head  that  I  am  mortal,  I  lliall  chufe  to  meet  death 
 in  this  humble  retreat ;  where  the  univerfal  terror 
 'feems  to  put  on  a  gentler  afped,  than  in  the  view 
 of  greatnefs,  and  the  amufements  of  life:  The 
 greateft  fortitude  and  moft  ferious  difpofition  is  lit- 
 tle enough  to  fupportthe  foul  in  that  important  and 
 iolemn  hour.  G  3  I  taks 
 
S6  LETTERS. 
 
 I  TAKE  all  opportunities  to  enquire  after  your 
 health,  and  am  overjoy'd  to  hear  that  you  are  no 
 longer  in  the  leaft  danger  of  a  confumption,  an4 
 that  you  are  almoft  perfedly  recovered.  May  all 
 the  joys  that  virtue  can  give  attend  you,  and  angels 
 guide  you  in  the  paths  to  immortal  blifs. 
 
 I  AM  glad  my  Lord  will  foon  return,  for  then 
 all  the  world  befides  will  be  infignificant  to  you : 
 'Tis  a  diftindtion  that  is  due  to  fo  much  merit. 
 
 /  amy  &c. 
 
 J.  E  T  T  E  R    XLII, 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 I  AM  tranfported  at  the  thoughts  of  feeing  your 
 Ladyiliip  here,  tho'  I  believe  it  will  prove  but 
 a  golden  dream.  It  would  not  be  civil  to  offer 
 you  fuch  lodgings  as  mine  •,  but  I  can  command 
 very  good  rooms  at  a  private  houfe  \  unlefs  you 
 chufe  mine,  which  are  really  not  fit  for  you.  I 
 hope  you  will  flay  more  than  a  night,  for  Longleaie 
 is  but  two  or  three  little  miles  off,  nor  Mrs — --'s  ; 
 and  ril  ramble  any  where  with  you,  on  condition 
 I  may  be  left  here,  to  breathe  my  laft  in  this  per- 
 fed  folitude.  Heaven  grant  that  grand  period 
 niay  look  as  unclouded  near,  as  it  does  at  a  dillance^ 
 Q  happy  period  ! 
 
 O  cdeftial  pointy 
 
 }P%cb  ends  this  rnotial  ftory  f 
 
 I  am,  if^c. 
 
 L  E 
 
 T", 
 
LETTERS.  87 
 
 LETTER    XLIIL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 IF  you  d'On^t  come  in  a  very  little  while,  there 
 will  be  no  laurels  nor  holly-oaks  left  in  the  coun- 
 try, for  my  waiting-gentlewoman  has  engrofs'd 
 them  all  to  adorn  her  chimneys :  Nor  will  there  be 
 a  handful  o^  halm  left  in  the  town  to  make  poffets 
 for  the  fick,  if  your  Ladyfhip  defers  your  journey 
 much  longer.  I  like  my  own  houfe  for  you  better 
 than  any  other,  ,and  if  you  can  bear  it,  I  fliall  be 
 perfedly  happy  while  you  are  in  it.     'Tis  but  to 
 
 •forget  that  you  are  the  Countefs  of- ,  and 
 
 that  will  not  rob  you  of  one  good  quality  i  for  if 
 you  liv'd  in  the  woods,  you  might  infift  on  the 
 rights  of  nature,  and  be  fovereign  of  the  rural  in- 
 habitants, and  reign  unrivali'd  on  the  plains. 
 
 Your  promifing  not  to  plague  me  (as  you  call 
 it)  makes  me  half  angry  with  you  ;  'tis  the  greateft 
 impropriety  of  language  you  can  be  guilty  of,  be- 
 fides  the  great  injuftice  of  fuch  a  thought.  I  hope 
 you  will  live  to  repent  the  criminal  fuppofition. 
 Your  company  v/ill  give  me  urimingled  joy,  nor 
 will  it  be  pofTible  for  you  to  put  me  into  the  leafh 
 hurry,  if  you  will  but  give  -orders  what  you  will 
 laave  to  eat  and  drink  ;  for  I  don't  exped  you 
 fliould  live  fuch  a  celeftial  life,  as  to  be  nourilh'd 
 with  the  pure  ether.  But  I  hope  your  Ladyfhip 
 wili  con-fine  your  luxury  to  the  common  food  ot 
 mortals ;  it  would  be  an  unreafonable  <:aprice  here 
 to  take  it  into  your  head  to  banquet  like  the  immor- 
 tals on  Neular  and  Ambrofia.  But  if  your  Lady- 
 Ihip  will  difpenfe  with  the  want  of  thefe  niceties, 
 and  content  yourfelf  with  earthly  viands,  you  will 
 highly  oblige  me  by  writing  your  own  bill  of  fare 
 every  morning,     I  mull  own,  without  afFedlation, 
 
 G  4  I  could 
 
88  LETTERS. 
 
 I  could  as  foon  compofe  a  new  almanack  for  the 
 year  1729,  as  perform  luch  a  laborious  tafk. 
 
 I  HAVE  hir'd  all  the  children  in  the  neighbour- 
 hood neither  to  cry  nor  hollow  while  you  are  here  *, 
 but  if 'tis  neceflary  for  them  to  utter  fome  audible 
 found,  and  lift  up  their  voices,  I  have  defir'd  it 
 may  be  only  in  finging,  which  1  hope  will  be  as 
 moral,  tho*  not  fo  melodious  an  entertainment,  as 
 the  Beggar's  Oi  era.  I  know  you  will  forgive  my 
 impertinent  averfion  to  that  performance,  and  the 
 ill-manners  of  contradiding  the  approbation  of  the 
 public. 
 
 How  happy  fhall  I  be,  if  you  like  my  houfe ! 
 Here  are  two  chambers  for  your  Ladyfhip,  and  a 
 
 *  chapel  for  Mrs. -,  of  which  fne  fhall  have 
 
 the  keys  in  her  pofiefTion,  and  where  fhe  may  re- 
 tire when  fhe  will  for  her  contemplations.  Only 
 there  are  no  bells,  nor  organs,  but  there  is  a  cu- 
 pola arid  arch'd  windows  -,  and  perhaps  her  medi- 
 tations may  not  always  require  a  place  of  more 
 fandity.  The  room  I  have  allotted  for  your  La- 
 dyfhip has  been  truly  confecrated  by  my  father's 
 devotions.  One  would  think  I  told  you  this,  that 
 you  might  not  fright  yourfelf  with  the  thoughts  of 
 ghofls  and  evil-fpirits.  Perhaps  the  fame  angeh 
 may  guard  you  there,  that  waited  to  condud  the 
 dying  faint  to  paradife:  Never  was  the  laft  part  of 
 life  acted  with  greater  fortitude.  I  can't  help  cq» 
 pying  thefe  fine  lines  fent  me 'by  Mr.  Grove, 
 
 Here  death  I  faiv^  net  that  ix:an^  ghaftly  JJjade^ 
 
 By  guilt  and  melancholy  fancy  7nade^ 
 
 Of  afpe^  ftern^  deformed  all  o'er^  and  blirJ -^ 
 
 But  gentle^  foft^  beneficent  and  kind, 
 
 Down  by  bis  fide  a  golden  quiver  hungy 
 
 f]ill  was  the  quiver,  nor  his  bow  iinflrung. 
 
 *  The  Mcetiri!7-houfc. 
 
 £>' 
 
 A  fiver- 
 
LETTERS.  89 
 
 A  filver  Jhaft  he  chofe  ('twas  tip  with  love-,) 
 Here's  to  the  man^  he  /aid,  inojt  dear  to  Jove. 
 ^hen  twanged  his  how^  away  the  pointed  dart 
 Flewfwift  as  thought^  and pera'd  the JanJ* rite's  heart '^ 
 A  fiidden  yught  involved  his  clofing  eyes^ 
 And  the  glad  foul  difmipdjought  out  her  kindred  files  ^ 
 
 NOT  difianl  far  I  faw  a  lonely  cave^ 
 7be  paffage  fleep  and  gloomy^  caWd  the  grave  \ 
 Difmal  it  feem'd,  hut  after  fkort  defcent^ 
 Opened  into  a  plain  of  vafi  extent  \ 
 Where  happy  ?ninds,  from  clay  unfetter'* d,  rove^ 
 Verdant  the  fields  beneath^  the  skies  ferene  above  % 
 No  fu miner's  droughty  nor  wintry  cold  are  there ^ 
 No  lazy  mifts  to  clog  the  purer  air. 
 Broad  ftr earns  of  blifs  from  living  fprings  fupply'd^ 
 With  fmooth^  majefiic  currents  gently  glide, 
 Alo7ig  the  fldore  angelic  forms  are  feen^ 
 And  hymns  divine  are  heard  -  ■ 
 
 TE  blifsful  feats^  &c, 
 
 I  MUST  defcend ;  how  I  got  here  I  cannot  tell, 
 "My  excurfions  to  the  skies  are  always  fhort,  and 
 fomewhat  unnatural ;  and,  as  you  can  witnefs,  I 
 have  a  great  fympathy  for  my  native  element  the 
 dufl,  and  can  breathe  in  thele  grofs  regions  with- 
 out the  leaft  difficulty  ;  and  as  long  as  I  live  in 
 hopes  of  feeing  your  Ladyfhip,  I  have  fome  pecu- 
 Jiar  engagements  to  the  world. 
 
 If  you  don't  like  this  houfe,  before  you  flivour 
 me  with  another  vifit,  1  will  certainly  go  to  one 
 that  I  am  fure  you  will  like.  But  I  beg  you  to 
 Jet  me  know  when  I  may  expedl  the  happinefs:  It 
 would  be  more  complaifant,  perhaps,  to  fiy  honour, 
 but  I  am  infenfible  to  that  •,  'tis  pleafure,  that  en- 
 chanting thing,  which  is  my  view,  when  I  think  of 
 
 converfing 
 
90  LETTERS. 
 
 converfing  with  you,  I  would  not  thank  the  Coun- 
 
 tefs  of for  the  honour  of  a  vific ;  the  airy 
 
 found  would  have  no  charms  for  me  on  fuch  aa 
 occafion, 
 
 I  AM  making  a  book,  inftead  of  writing  a  let- 
 ter. I  have  not  room  to  fubfcribe  in  any  form  ;  ce- 
 remony muft  yield  to  necelTity.     Finis, 
 
 LETTER     XLIV. 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam,  Sept,  7.  17^8. 
 
 T  H  A  VE  at  prefent  a  fet  of  thoughts  not  to  be 
 •*•  exprefs'd  in  the  common  language  of  mortals ; 
 but  fince  I  am  yet  a  ftranger  to  the  figures  of  ce- 
 leflial  eloquence,  I  muil  content  myfelf  with  vulgar 
 forms,  and  return  my  thanks  for  your  vifit,  in  term« 
 very  inferior  to  the  fenfe  I  have  of  the  vaft  obli- 
 gation, 
 
 IneffaUe  the  reft^ 
 And  hy  immortal  tongues  alone  to  he  exprefi. 
 
 The  height  of  good-humour  and  fparkling  wit, 
 chat  appear'd  in  your  converfation  the  whole  tim.e 
 of  your  flay  here,  charm'd  me  beyond  every  thing 
 elfe  ;  but  has  given  me  fuch  a  difgufl  for  whatever 
 comes  in  my  way,  that  I  am  juft  ready  to  quarrel 
 with  every  body  I  meet  for  not  looking  and  fpeak- 
 ing  like  you.  I  am  grown  fo  unreafonable  as  to 
 have  an  averfion  to  human  creatures,  for  mere  im- 
 pofTibilities.  The  refledion  on  a  pleafure  paft,  your 
 Ladyfhip  will  find,  has  a  very  different  efi^ed  on 
 my  imagination,  from  what  the  hopes  of  a  fatisfac- 
 faclion  to  come  had.     I  am  now  as  fplenetic  to 
 
 find 
 
LETTERS.  91 
 
 find  the  pleafure  for  ever  gone,  as  I  was  gay  in 
 the  view  of  it  when  future. 
 
 Mrs.- has  left  a  handkerchief  here,  which 
 
 fhall  be  fafely  returned.  I  wifh  fhe  had  left  her 
 heart,  tho'  it  would  have  been  an  argument  Ihe  had 
 loll  her  wits.  I  am  fo  much  govern'd  by  my  own 
 intereft,  that  I  fhould  rejoice  at  any  thing  which 
 would  be  a  motive  to  bring  her  here  again.  ^ 
 
 I  H  A  v  E    with  many  arguments   prevail'd  on 
 
 Mrs. ■  to  have  fome  charity  for  David,  tho* 
 
 he  was  guilty  of  the  great  immorality  of  laughing 
 to  himfelf,  on  fuch  a  ferious  exigence,  as  the  being 
 reduc'd  to  toaft  cheefe  with  the  fire-fhovel ;  which 
 I  find  is  the  only  crime  he  was  ever  guilty  of.^ 
 
 When  Ihall  I  recover  my  indolence  and  indif- 
 ference to  earthly  enioyments?  Really,  Madam,  I 
 find  it  necefifary  to  my  peace  and  tranquility  to  for- 
 get you  as  foon  as  I  can,  which  I  fear  all  my  pioqs 
 endeavours  will  not  be  able  to  complete. 
 
 Be  ibis  vain  world  in  ev^  ry  form  forgot  I 
 
 This  is  but  a  fort  of  imaginary  triumph  •,  for  flili 
 I  find  myfelf  engag'd  beyond  the  common  forma- 
 Jity  of  fubfcribing  myfelf 
 
 LETTER.     XLV, 
 
 7h  the  fame. 
 
 Madam^  Sept.  1 6.  1728. 
 
 HOW    many  obligations  have  I   to  you   for 
 your  laft  pacquet  •,  without  flattery  thefe  lines 
 may  be  apply'd  to  you, 
 
 -piffufng 
 
92  LETTERS. 
 
 ' Diffufmgiife  around^ 
 
 ne  light  of  glad  fociety ;  and  teach 
 Love^  innocence  and  joy  to  mix  again j 
 As  in  the  days  of  Eden. 
 
 :.   You  are  Mrs.- ^'s  everlafting  theme,  (he 
 
 remembers  every  fentence :  Every  word  that  efcap'd 
 your  lips  is  treafur'd  fafely  in  her  memory,  and  is 
 as  authentic  with  her  as  Mr.  Dod's  fayings.  She 
 has  repeated  them  fo  often  to  her  brother  and  fifler, 
 that  they  have  them  by  heart.  She  had  no  notion' 
 ihe  owns,  of  beauty  and  elegance  before,  but  now 
 fhe  thinks  with  pleafure  of  what  perfedlion  human 
 nature  is  capable. 
 
 I  CONFESS  I  expeded  this  place  would  have  put 
 70U  part  redrefs  into  the  fpleen.  I  was  moft  agree- 
 ably difappointed  to  find  that  you  crown'd  the  too 
 fleeting  moments  with  wit  and  innocent  mirth,  the 
 whole  time  of  your  flay;  and  I  ihali  ever  recal  the 
 happy  hours  with  pleafure. 
 
 In  imitation  of  your  Ladyfhip's  benignity,  that 
 would  give  fatisfadion  to  the  mcaneft  of  human 
 kind  ;  I  have  rejoic'd  Mrs. with  the  intelli- 
 gence of  Colonel . 
 
 I  AM,  by  a  thoufand  engagements, 
 
 Tour^  &Ci 
 
 ^»"^ 
 
 LETTER    XLVL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 
 "T  ^  ?  ^"  ^S^  ^^"^^  ^  \^t2ixdi  from  you,  and  I  be- 
 gin to  queflion   whether  my  paft  happinefs 
 has  been  real  or  a  dream,  and  if  there  is  any  fuch 
 
 agreeable 
 
 *o 
 
LETTERS.  93 
 
 agreeable  perfon  as  Lady — in  beings  or  that 
 
 I  have  only  entertain'd  myfelf  with  a  fore  of  fairy 
 vifion.  With  you  every  thing  elfe  feems  to  vanilh 
 into  a  ftate  of  doubt  and  uncertainty.  *Tis  not 
 impoflible  that  the  world  may  be  ftill  inhabited  by 
 human  creatures  ;  but  to  me  it  feems  a  perfedt  fo- 
 litude,  and  I  begin  to  fancy  myfelf  the  fole  pof- 
 feflbr  of  the  earthly  globe  :  Only  the  misfortune  is, 
 'tis  of  no  ufe  to  me  j  this  fnowy  weather  prevents 
 me  from  travelling  to  view  the  extent  of  my  vail 
 
 dominions.     But,   dear  Lady ,    if  you  are 
 
 in  any  corner  of  the  univerfe,  let  me  know  it  ; 
 'twill  be  a  real  joy  to  me,  tho*  I  fhould  quit  half 
 my  fhare  both  of  fea  and  land  to  your  poffefTion. 
 
 /  am^  &c, 
 
 LETTER    XLVir. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam^ 
 
 IM  U  S  T  begin  with  what  moft  concerns  me, 
 which  is  your  want  of  health.  I  have  the  mofk 
 cxquifite  fenfe  of  any  affliction  of  that  kind  that 
 reaches  you.  You  would  not  be  confin'd  to  the 
 do6lor's  hands  for  a  trifle.  I  have  feen  your  tem- 
 per in  violent  pain,  and  I  think  no  perfon  has  more 
 fortitude  and  calmnefs  of  mind  in  thofe  occafions  ; 
 fo  that  I  fhall  not  be  perfedlly  eafy,  till  I  hear 
 you  are  recovered. 
 
 I  AM  much  better  qualify'd  to  write  a  religious 
 diary  than  an  epiftle  to  a  perfon  of  your  Ladylhip's 
 wit  and  diftindion.  My  fcene  of  adion  is  my 
 own  chamber,  and  all  the  ufe  I  have  of  human 
 fpeech  is  talking  to  myfelf.     This  weather  feems 
 
 to 
 
94  LETTERS. 
 
 to  confine  every  body  to  an  enchanted  circle,  juft 
 where  they  are  they  mufl:  content  themfelves  to  flay^ 
 However,  I  am  very  well  fatisfy'd,  as  long  as  1 
 hear  of  your  welfare,  and  I  am  no  further  inquifi- 
 tive,  whether  the  world  is  adeep  or  awake,  at  rejj 
 or  in  agitation. 
 
 If  1  don't  write  a  diary,  and,  with  DuBartaSy 
 
 ^.^.^^Sing  myfelf  my  civil  wars  within. 
 
 However,  'tis  a'pra6lice  that  I  can't  but  approve 
 in  other  people  :  But,  for  myfelf,  the  daily  recital 
 of  my  own  follies  would  be  an  infupportable  mor- 
 tification. And  yet  a  time  will  come  when  I  muft 
 ftand  a  feverer  judge  than  my  own  confcience. 
 Sometimes,  for  v^ant  of  greater  novelties,  I  read 
 the  Map  of  Man  in  this  author.  'Tis  a  perfedl  pic- 
 ture of  human  nature,  and  the  general  caprice  of 
 mankind. 
 
 If  Tm  merry ^  Pm  mady 
 
 Say  the  fevers ;  if  Pm  fad^ 
 
 The  merry  griggs  me  moplfh  call, 
 
 LU  foffihle  for  any  man 
 
 At  once  to  pleafe^  do  what  he  can, 
 
 God,  himfelf  the  world  and  all  ? 
 
 The  two  firfl,  however,  are  more  eafily  pleas'd 
 than  the  laft ;  and  'tis  not  of  piuch  confequence,  if 
 heaven  and  confcience  give  their  approbation,  tho' 
 the  world  fhould  diffent,  and  make  a  different  judg- 
 ment. 
 
 You  could  not  more  oblige  me.  Madam,  than 
 by  putting  a  fubfcription  for  me  to  Mr.  Thomfon's 
 poems,  which  I  hope  will  meet,  as  they  deferve, 
 great  encouragement. 
 
 You  may  command  me  to  copy  my  impertinen- 
 ces of  any  kind  in  profe  or  verfe.  I  never  conceal 
 a;iy  of  my  follies  from  you,  but  when  I  am  doubt- 
 
 fcl 
 
 4 
 
LETTERS.  95 
 
 ful  whether  you  will  excufe  them  •,  and  when  I  am 
 afraid  you  cannot,  I  had  rather  half  the  world  be- 
 fides  fhould  know  them  :  But  when  my  vanity  pre- 
 vails, and  makes  me  fecure  of  pleahng  your  tafte, 
 I  am  impatient  to  fend  you  my  produdtions  with 
 the  greateft  parade  and  oftentation.  Whatever  I 
 can  hope  will  be  to  my  advantage,  I  will  never 
 make  a  fecret. 
 
 I  HAVE  fent  you  a  perfed  mifcellany  ;  and  to 
 
 conclude,  I  wifh  my  Lord and  your  Ladyihip 
 
 many  happy  new  years. 
 
 I  amy  &c. 
 
 LETTER    XLVIII. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Maiarriy 
 
 I  SHOULD  pity  your  Lady  (hip,  but  that  it 
 looks  like  a  fort  of  infolence,  in  the  fplendor 
 of  your  circumftances,  to  imagine  that  you  are  an 
 objedt  of  compaiTion.  If  it  would  not  look  like 
 unpardonable  vanity,  I  fhould  exprefs  a  world  of 
 good  nature  and  tendernefs  for  you  on  this  occa- 
 fion  •,  but  I  believe  you  will  advife  me,  fince  I  have 
 a  mind  to  cry,  and  am  fo  charitably  difpos'd,  to 
 find  a  more  proper  fubjed  for  my  grief  and  com- 
 
 miferation.     If  Lady ■  and  Lord >  are  in 
 
 town  with  you,  there  is  the  lefs  need  of  my  pity, 
 for^they  are  innocent  and  reafonable  delight. 
 I  BEG  you  to  let  nobody  read  the  *  enclos'd  but 
 
 Mrs. .  It  is  writ  in  imitation  of  fomething  of 
 
 this  kind,  which  I  read  in  manufcript,  wrote   by 
 one  who  died  very  young,  and  with  great  joy  and 
 
 ♦  Sec  Devout  Exerdfes  of  the  Henrtt  p.  if- 
 
 fatisfaclion ; 
 
96 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 fatisfadlion  -,  which  probably  was  from  the  fenfe  of 
 having  in  this  folemn  manner  renewed  the  jfacred 
 engagements  made  for  her  in  baptifm.  No  motive 
 in  the  world,  but  that  fincere  and  tender  concern  I 
 have  for  your  happinefs,  could  have  prevail'd  with 
 me  to  fend  it ;  but  when  I  confider  what  an  ad- 
 vantage it  has  been  to  my  own  refolutions,  I  could 
 not  in  confcience  but  let  you  fee  it.  Oh  !  may  you 
 (land  unterrify'd,  when  the  pillars  of  the  earth  fliall 
 tremble,  and  the  mountains  melt  before  the  face 
 of  the  Almighty  Judge.  I  fliall  not  refign  my  con- 
 cern for  you,  but  when  I  give  up  my  life,  nor  I 
 think  then  neither.  My  friendfhip  is  not  divided, 
 and  that  makes  all  my  hopes  and  fears  about  mor- 
 tal things  centre  in  you. 
 
 /  am^  &c. 
 
 LETTER    XLIX. 
 
 To  the  fa7ne. 
 
 Madam^ 
 
 TT  would  be  unreafonable  to  expeft  any  part  of 
 •*•  your  Ladyfhip's  attention  till  the  triumphs  of 
 the  birth-day  are  pad.  I  love  Ihow  and  magnifi- 
 cence, I  confefs-,  but  I  have  a  much  greater  plea- 
 fure  in  hearing  the  juft  reflecflions  of  a  mind  form'd 
 like  yours,  on  thole  fplendid  tumults.  \x\  the  midft 
 of  them,  I  fancy,  you  are  always  at  leifure,  and 
 perfedly  difengag'd  in  your  thoughts.  If  I  can 
 guefs  at  your  temper,  it  is  free  from  the  worft  of 
 plagues,  ambition  *,  that,  attended  with  envy  and 
 reftlefs  fufpicion,  muffc  make  a  court  life  a  (late  of 
 unmingled  mifery.  But,  as  you  are  as  truly  great 
 as  you  can  be,  this  muft  keep  your  mind  in  fuch  a 
 fuperior  and  eafy  fituation. 
 
 The 
 
 \ 
 
LETTERS.  97 
 
 The  (lory  of  Lavinia  is  told  with  a  natural  and 
 becoming  eafe  ;  but  I  read  it  in  a  very  ill  humour, 
 becaufe  you  had  not  writ  a  line  with  it.  If  your  La- 
 dyfhip  had  but  taken  the  pains  to  put  Lady  — «'s 
 
 and  Lord 's  name  in  the  empty  fpace,  it  would 
 
 have  given  me  fome  delight,  and  I  fhould  not  have 
 been  reduc'd  to  fold  up  the  paper,  and  read  my 
 name  and  place  of  abode  on  the  fuperfcription,  as 
 I  did  over  and  over,  in  order,  firft,  to  fatisfy  my- 
 felf  that  you  were  alive  ;  and  fecondly,  that  the  au- 
 guft  aflembly  met  in  parliament  had  not  made  it 
 treafon  for  women  to  fpell  Engli/h,  and  write  in 
 a  legible  charader.  After  I  had  made  thefe  ra- 
 tional inferences,  I  aflum'd  my  native  peace  and 
 tranquility  again,  and  live  in  hopes  of  further  con- 
 firmation of  thefe  great  truths. 
 
 /  amy  Sec. 
 
 LETTER     L. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam^ 
 
 1H0PE  this  letter  will  find  your  Ladyfhip  fafely 
 return'd  to ,  and  in  the  full  enjoyment 
 
 of  thofe  natural  and  guiltlefs  delights  that  Lady 
 
 — -'s  wit  and  Lord .'s  innocence  muft  give 
 
 you. 
 
 M ILTO  N*s  morning  hymn  to  the  Creator 
 muft  be  a  noble  entertainment  to  a  mind  form'd  like 
 yours :  I  almoft  hear  the  harmony  of  it  in  Mrs. 
 's  beautiful  defcription  of  that  performance. 
 
 I  HAVE  been  reading  the  laft  chapter  of  Ecclefid" 
 7?<fi,  with  many  a  melancholy  paufe  on  the  ftrength 
 and  juftnefs  of  thofe  figures  that  defcribe  the  decay 
 
 Vol.  IL  H  of 
 
98  LETTERS. 
 
 of  nature  *,  till  I  came  to  the  clofe,  where  the  dud 
 returned  to  the  earth,  and  the  fpirit  to  its  great  Ori- 
 ginal :  here  the  fcene  brighten'd,  and  the  reverfe  to 
 fo  miny  gloomy  memorials  was  all  unclouded  and 
 ferene.  The  face  of  nature  looks  now  fo  wild  and 
 wintry,  that  'tis  a  relief  to  the  mind  to  think  itfelf 
 but  a  paflcnger  thro'  fuch  dreary  and  inhofpicable 
 regions.     As  Mr.  JVatts  i-iys, 
 
 Long  nights  and  darhiefi  dwell  hdowy 
 
 With  fear ce  a  glimmering  ray  \ 
 But  the  bright  world  to  which  we  gOy 
 
 Is  everlajling  day. 
 
 The  Verfes  to  a  Friend  have  given  me  a  very 
 agreeable  image  of  a  peaceful  life,  and  as  charming 
 a  fcene  of  death. 
 
 Cahn  andrefign*d  to  fome  thick  Jhade  retire y 
 And  on  a  grajjy  turf  in  peace  expire. 
 
 Such  a  death  is  like  falling  into  a  gentle  fleep,  and 
 has  nothing  terrible  in  its  approach.  May  the  pious 
 fupplication  you  have  enclos'd  afcend  like  incenfe 
 from  an  angel's  hand,  and  bring  back  every  blef- 
 fing  on  your  head. 
 
 It  mull  be  a  joy  to  the  public  to  have  Prince 
 Frederic  here  ;  'tis  a  fort  of  confirmation  of  the 
 nation's  prefent  happinefs,  and  a  prefage  of  their 
 future  tranquility. 
 
 Nlver  was  any  thing  more  fprightly  than  your 
 laft  letter,  only  you  have  turn'd  the  raillery  moft 
 unjuftly  on  yourfelf;  a  crime  1  Ihould  never  have 
 forgiven  in  any  other  perfon  in  the  world. 
 
 /  ^;«,  &c. 
 L  E  T» 
 
M 
 
 LETTERS.  99 
 
 LETTER    LL 
 
 T'q  the  fa?ne. 
 
 Madam  y 
 Y  Lord — 'sdifgraceisa  new  inftance  of  the  va- 
 nity of  human  dependance.  I  could  make  fome 
 wife  remarks  on  the  advantage  of  an  obfcure  and  in- 
 ferior ftation ;  if  a  contempt  of  greatnefs  did  not  look 
 like  mere  affeflation :  and  it  is  often  really  fo,  in 
 perfons  of  an  interior  rank;  and  yet  'tis  in  the  hum- 
 ble cottage  that  peace  feems  to  make  her  facred 
 abode. 
 
 Not  boujidlefs  pow'r^  nor  watchful  guards  that  wait 
 In  glittering  p07np  around  the  palace  gate ^ 
 Nor  antichamhers  with  attendants  fill^d^ 
 I'he  mind's  uneafy  tumults  ever  JiiWd. 
 
 I  THINK  the  fable,  by  the  archbifhop  of  CiJ7«- 
 Iray^  of  the  old  Queen  and  Petronella^  the  mod  en- 
 tertaining and  moral  thing  of  that  nature  I  ever 
 read  ;  only  I  was  angry  with  the  country  lafs,  for 
 not  having  more  wit,  till  fhe  had  made  the  expe- 
 riment. 
 
 With  every  advantage  of  nature  join'd  to  great- 
 nefs, you  feem  almoft  tir'd  of  being  a  countefs.    If 
 
 it  would  not  be  an  injuflice  to  my  Lord — ,  I 
 
 Ihould  certainly  wifli  you  an  humble  cottager,  with 
 no  cares  nor  joys,  but  what  your  fleecy  charge  and 
 country  holidays  afforded.  I  fhould  fincerely  wifh 
 fuch  a  metamorphofis,  but  that  I  mud  fink  your 
 hero  from  his  dignity  *,  and  perhaps  Lord  -— 
 would  not  eafily  accommodate  himfelf  to  make 
 garlands  and  paftorals,  being  much  better  qualify'd 
 to  adorn  a  court. 
 
 H  2  This 
 
loo         LETTERS. 
 
 This  trifling  is  not  fincere  •,  for  really  I  am  in  a 
 very  fober  and  grave  difpofuion,  and  had  much 
 rather  talk  of  the  next  world  than  of  this.  You 
 are  not  more  tir'd  of  vifiting-days  and  aflemblies, 
 than  I  am  of  breathing  and  fleeping.  I  could  wifh 
 myfelf  got  fafe  beyond  the  thick  darknels-,  but 
 there  nature  flarts,  a  thoufand  fantaftic  horrors 
 guard  the  gloomy  pafTage  •,  and  yet  'tis  inevitable, 
 and  muft  be  pafs'd.  What  ecftafy  mud  break  in 
 upon  the  loul,  the  firft  moment  it  finds  itfelf  got 
 fecure  from  all  thofe  threatning  terrors?  when  death 
 and  hell  for  ever  vanquifh'd,  fhall  leave  it  in  the 
 quiet  poflefTion  of  immortal  joys?  But  flill  the 
 grand  event  is  undetermin'd,  and  a  difmal  uncer- 
 tainty clouds  thefe  gaudy  hopes.  If  thefe  bright 
 ^  expe(5tations  fhould  fail,  and  the  foul  be  doom'd 
 to  wander  for  ever  on  fome  dark  unhappy  fhore, 
 baniih'd  for  infinite  ages  from  the  feats  of  light  and 
 joy. — This  doubt  often  finks  my  fpirits,  and  makes 
 me  long  to  have  the  important  affair  decided. 
 Your  LadyQiip  will  certainly  think  that  1  am 
 tranfcribing  fome  honed  DifTcnter's  fermon  for  your 
 edification  •,  but  I  know  you  will  pardon  me  when 
 I  tell  you,  I  have  no  end  in  difcovering  my  own 
 concern,  but  to  excite  yours,  who  are  equally  inte- 
 refted  in  this  fubjedl.  Heaven  can  witnefs,  how 
 fincere  my  concern  for  your  happinefs  is ;  the  lead 
 part  of  it  is  exprelTed  in  fubfcribing  myfelf, 
 
 Tour^  &c. 
 
 LET- 
 
LETTERS.         loi 
 
 LETTER     LII.^ 
 
 To  the  fa7ne. 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 
 T  receiv'd  an  agreeable,  I  can't  fay  a  long  let- 
 •*-  letter,  from   your  Ladyfhip.     Nothing  can  be 
 
 more  obliging  than  your  invitation  co  M^- ,  and 
 
 you  would  pity  me,  if  you  could  conceive  how 
 much  I  am  diftreft,  at  once  to  exprefs  my  grati- 
 tude and  unwillingnefs  to  leave  this  retreat.  Com- 
 pared to  this,  M is  a  theatre,  a  court,  nations, 
 
 a-nd  languages,  the  whole  univerfe  afTembled  toge- 
 ther :  and  it  feems  more  decent  to  fpend  the  laft 
 part  of  life  in  privacy  and  retirement,  than  to  in- 
 trude on  the  Grand  Monde  fo  unfeafonably.  I 
 can't  pofTibly  flatter  myfelf  that  time  (lands  ftill,  or 
 that  my  fun  runs  backward.  The  world  feems  to 
 be  at  an  end  to  me,  and  the  time  is  haitening, 
 which  will  bring  a  pathetic  evidence  of  the  truth  of 
 that  melancholy  defcription  in  Ecclefiajles,  When 
 the  fun  and  the  lights  and  the  moon  and  the  ftars  Jhail 
 b^  darkened^  and  the  clouds  return  after  the  rain ; 
 when  the  keepers  of  the  houfe  fhall  tremble^  and  thofe 
 that  look  out  of  the  windows  be  dark  ;  when  the  daugh^ 
 t-ers  of  mufic  fhall  ceafe^  and  the  graf  hopper  fhall  be  a 
 burthen  •,  when  the  pitcher  fhall  be  broken  at  the  foun- 
 t/iin,  and  the  mourners  go  about  the  ftreets, 
 
 I  AM  as  free  of  my  quotations,  as  if  your  Lady- 
 fhip had  never  learnt  to  read,  or  was  forbid  by 
 fcme  popifh  prieft  to  look  into  the  Bible. 
 
 /  am^  &c. 
 
 H  3  LET. 
 
102         LETTERS. 
 
 LETTER     LIII. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 "Vr  OUR  reproaches  are  but  too  jufl,  nor  dare 
 -^  I  add  to  the  guilt  of  violating  my  promife, 
 that  Oi  defending  myfelfby  any  falle  excules  ;  but 
 you  would  eafily  pardon  me,  if  you  knew  the  fe- 
 cret  regret  that  this  infamous  condud  gives  me.  It 
 will  certainly  prevent  me  from  ever  making  a  pro- 
 mife  in  the  moll  common  adions  of  life.  But  I 
 am  the  only  fufferer  in  this,  and  my  crime  is  my 
 mofl  fevere  and  exquifite  punilhment :  Yuur  Lady- 
 fhip's  converfcition  is  a  plealure  that  ol  all  other 
 human  flitisfadions  I  find  the  moft  unwillingnefs  to 
 refign.  Unlefs  I  can  have  this  houfe  entirely  to 
 my  ft  If,  I  believe  I  (hall  remove ;  and  if  I  do,  I 
 may  contrive  to  be  near  enough  to  enjoy  the  ad- 
 vantage of  your  fociety,  and  fecure  my  own  free- 
 dom and  retirement :  But  juft  at  this  inftant  being 
 diforder'd  with  frequent  pains  in  my  head,  the  cold 
 and  filent  dwellings  of  the  dead  are  the  very  fea- 
 fonable  fubjedt  of  my  thoughts. 
 
 My  charity  is  very  large,  and  from  this  catho- 
 lic fpirit  I  have  often  canoniz'd  fome  atheift  or 
 libertine  for  a  great  faint ;  but  I  am  pleas'd  to  think 
 
 I  made  an  infallible  judgment  of  Mr.  -^ 's  merit 
 
 and  piety.  '    ,^  < 
 
 'Tjs  your  Ladyihip'^  talent  to  oblige  people 
 with  the  beft  grace  in  the  world,  you  almoft  pre- 
 vented my  impatience  for  the  pleafure  of  reading 
 Mr.  Thomfon\  Hymn  cif  CoUtude^  which  is  really  fine, 
 I  fancy  you  have  read  a  pamphlet  calTd  the  Tryal 
 of  the  IVitneJfes  of  our  Saviour's  Refurre5fion  *,  they 
 fay  it  was  wrote  by  my  Lord  Chancellory  whoever 
 
 wa^ 
 
LETTERS.  103 
 
 was  the  author,  'tis  worthy  of  a  man  of  fenfe  and 
 
 I  am^  &c. 
 
 LETTER     LIV. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Mada?n^ 
 
 THERE  are  not  many  things  capable  of  giv- 
 ing me  a  moment's  uneafinefs  j  but  your  La- 
 dy (hip  has  Itill  an  entire  a.'cendant  over  my  thoughts, 
 and  can  raife  my  hopes  and  fearsguft  as  you  think  fit. 
 I  could  not  have  expected  more  from  any  enjoyment 
 in  human  life,  than  I  promis'd  myfelf  from  your 
 converfation  •,  and  if  the  ftars  have  any  thing  to  do 
 with  the  difippointment,  I  have  much  more  reafon 
 than  you  to  complain  of  their  malignant  influence. 
 However,  the  unpleafantnefsof  the  feafon,  and  the 
 hopes  of  feeing  you  in  a  more  agreeable  houfe  in 
 the  fpring,  leflen  the  afRidion.  Nothing  but  the 
 r.atural  lazincfs  and  inadivity  of  my  temper,  will 
 keep  me  from  removing,  for  'tis  at  prefent  my  real 
 intention.  Why  has  deiltiny  defign'd  you  a  Duchefs, 
 and  given  you  accompiifhments  to  fhine  in  a  court  ^ 
 Had  your  lot  confin'd  you  to  fome  neighbouring 
 plentiful  farm,  how  happy  had  I  been  every  fum- 
 mer  evening  to  have  crofs'd  two  or  three  flowery 
 ^dds  to  vifit  you,  and  have  found  you  fitting  on 
 fome  grafiy  bank,  making  cowflip-balls  tor  your 
 chiklren,  or  gathering  pionies  in  your  garden,  to 
 drefs  up  the  ipacious  chimney  in  your  hall !  I  will 
 fay  no  more,  becaufe  the  impollibility  of  fuch  a 
 happinefs  does  really  torment  me.  Adieu,  ye  gen- 
 tle fcenes  of  innocence  and  peace;  I  mull  quit  the 
 s^ifionary  blifs  for  greatnefs  and  titles,  and  addrefs 
 
 H  4  myielf 
 
I04         LETTERS. 
 
 myfelf  to  the  Countefs  of~—  ;  who,  I  am  afraid, 
 will  hardly  pardon  the  ftrange  metamorphofis  I 
 have  been  contriving. 
 
 Fancies  and  notions  we  purfuCy 
 
 That  ne^er  had  being  hut  in  thought  \ 
 
 And^  like  the  Grecian  artift^  woo 
 
 7he  image  we  our/elves  have  wrought. 
 
 Prior, 
 
 I  CANNOT  but  truly  fympathize  with  your  La- 
 dyfhip  in  your  anxiety  for  Lord——.  1  hope  he 
 will  efcape,  by  the  protedion  of  heaven,  this  wprft 
 of  human  diftempers  *. 
 
 I  am^  Sec, 
 *  The  Small-pox. 
 
 LETTER    LV. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam, 
 
 IF  I  N  D,  by  a  too  guilty  experience,  that  peo- 
 ple in  low  life  take  an  infolent  fort  of  pleafure 
 in  levelling  their  fuperiors ;  but  I  muft  own,  that 
 fince  I  have  divefled  you  of  your  titles  and  equi- 
 page, you  are  grown  more  intimate  and  familiar 
 to  my  imagination,  and  my  affedion  for  you  is 
 heighten' J  byconverfing  upon  an  equality  with  you. 
 I  have  vifited  your  cleanly  farm  without  any  cere- 
 mony, and  wander'd  in  the  green  paftures  ftock'd 
 with  lowing  herds  and  bleating  flocks.  Qnly  your 
 domeflics  are  not  quite  fo  elegant  as  I  could  wifh. 
 Jnftead  ot  fuch  nice  romantic  damfels  as  /Ilmeda,  I 
 meet  harmlefs,  unthinking,  round-fac'd  lafles ;  and 
 for  powder'd  beaux  in  fliining  liveries,  mimickir;g 
 
 opera! 
 
LETTERS.         los 
 
 opera  airs  and  fongs,  I  meet  Colin  and  Luhherkirty 
 with  ruffet-coats  and  fun-burnt  faces,  whiftling  fome 
 aukvvard  tune,  or  roaring  out  a  country  ballad  with 
 voices  as  harfh  as  their  fellow  animals,  which  bel- 
 low on  the  mountains.  However,  to  make  you 
 amends  for  this,  every  thing  elfe  is  as  elegant  as  the 
 abode  of  fome  fylvan  Goddefs  5  joy  and  feftivity 
 furround  you,  and  nature  pours  out  all  her  blef- 
 fings  for  you.  But  to  leave  thefe  vifionary  fcenes, 
 I  can't  but  in  reality  admire  the  agreeable  inno- 
 cence and  regularity  of  your  wifhcs  :  The  height 
 of  your  ftation  has  not  perverted  your  tafte  for  that 
 guiltlefs  happinefs,  which  nature  in  her  perfedion 
 feems  form'd  to  enjoy. 
 
 1  CANNOT  be  unconcern'd  for  Lord ,  while 
 
 the  fmall-pox  is  fo  near  you  ;  all  my  hopes  are 
 plac'd  in  that  heavenly  guard,  whom  you  have 
 made  your  confidence. 
 
 Mrs. is  now  in  town,  where  I  hope  your 
 
 Ladyfhip  will  find  her  always  entertaining  and  eafy. 
 Envy  is  not  my  favourite  vice-,  if  it  were,  I  fhould 
 be  as  foon  jealous  of  your  favour,  as  of  any  thing 
 on  earth  ;  but  inftead  of  that,  I  am  pleas'd  to  find 
 merit  recommend  itfelf  to  your  efteem  in  every  ap- 
 pearance: and  I  really  think  Mrs.— — 's  good  qua- 
 lities will  bear  the  Itricteft  and  moft  nice  examina- 
 tion ;  and  a  long  acquaintance  with  her,  inftead  of 
 difcovering  faults,  reveals  new  virtues.  If  I  re- 
 move, it  will  be  feven  or  eight  miles  nearer  you, 
 to  convince  you  that  I  am  not  going  to  conceal 
 myfelf  from  you.  I  had  a  thouland  times  rather 
 enjoy  your  converfation  in  my  own  private  retreat, 
 than  fee  you  in  fuch  a  crowded  ftation  as  your  own. 
 
 Ma  7  the  fmiles  of  heaven  brighten  your  paf- 
 fage  thro'  the  gloomy  trails  of  life,  and  direft  you 
 in  the  unerring  paths  to  immortal  joy. 
 
 /  am^  bcc. 
 
 LET- 
 
io6         LETTERS. 
 
 LETTER    LVL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam^ 
 
 YO  U  have  given  me  a  very  agreeable  image 
 of  the  gardens  at  Kenfington  j  but  your  La- 
 dyfhip  muft  have  a  perfect  command  of  your  tem- 
 per, to  turn  your  thoughts  to  the  planetary  regions, 
 amid  ft  thofe  charming  retreats,  and  all  the  foft 
 amufements  of  a  court*,  where,  to  my  great  fatis- 
 fadion,  I  find  you  can  think  as  ferioufly,  as  if  you 
 were  in  a  defart.  I  wifh  your  Ladyfliip  would 
 tranfcribe  fome  of  your  midnight  reflexions;  wheu 
 
 A  thoufand  lamps  of  golden  light 
 Hung  high  in  vaulted  azure  char  in  the  fight. 
 
 Dr.  Watts. 
 
 I  HAVE  guilt  enough,  heaven  knows,  to  hum- 
 ble me,  but  I  may  fafely  afiert  that  I  have  hardly 
 ever  in  my  life  broke  a  promife  deliberately  ;  and 
 I  beg  your  Ladyfhip  would  now  prevent  my  guilt, 
 for  if  you  do  not  infift  on  the  engagement,  I  am 
 ilill  free  and  innocent.  If  I  was  twenty  years 
 younger,  and  could  Ihare  in  the  amufements  of  fo- 
 ciety  with  a  good  grace,  I  would  attend  you  till 
 you  were  inclined  in  charity  t;o  yourfelf  to  difmifs 
 nie  ;  but  you  would  not  advife  me  to  ramble  till  I 
 was  blind  enough  to  knock  my  head  againft  every 
 .thing  that  ftood  in  my  way,  nor  till  I  was  fo  deaf 
 as  not  to  hear  without  a  fpeaking-trumpet.  Your 
 JLadyfhip,  I  am  fure,  has  too  fincere  a  value  for 
 the  decency  of  my  charader,  to  advife  me  to  intrude 
 m\  the  world  till  I  carry 
 
 In  my  face 
 Memento  mori  to  each  public  place  5 
 
 While 
 
LETTERS.  107 
 
 /FZ?i/^  rival  undertakers  hover  rounds 
 And  with  his  fpade  the  fexton  marks  the  ground. 
 
 Dr.  Young. 
 
 I  AM  a  hundred  years  older  than  when  I  faw 
 you  Jaft. 
 
 Not  numerous  are  our  joys ^  when  life  is  new. 
 And  yearly  fome  are  falling  of  the  few  \ 
 But  when  we  conquer  lifers  meridian  fiage. 
 And  downward  tend  into  the  vale  oj  age^ 
 They  drop  apace ;  by  nature  fome  decay ^ 
 jind  fome  the  blafts  of  fortune  fweep  away\ 
 Till  naked  quite  of  happinefs^  aloud 
 We  call  for  deaths  and  fjelter  in  a  Jhroud, 
 
 Dr.  Young. 
 
 I  am,  i^c, 
 
 LETTER     LVII. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam, 
 XT  would  be  a  great  happinefs  to  be  either  infen- 
 ■  fible  or  independent  on  human  events  •,  to  be 
 too  ftupid,  or  too  wife,  to  be  concerned  at  the 
 bright  or  gloomy  accidents  of  life.  If  I  had  but 
 fagacicy  enough  to  be  fatisfy'd  that  whether  yoi4 
 are  fick  or  in  health,  the  flars  will  keep  on  their 
 round,  nature  obferve  its  harmony,  and  the  fun 
 bring  back  the  day,  it  might  reilore  the  compofure 
 of  my  thoughts  \  but  in  the  height  of  my  concern, 
 I  have  not  wit  enough  to  reafon  fo  well  as  this. 
 Sometimes  I  endeavour  to  perfuade   myfelf  that 
 
 you 
 
ic8         LETTERS. 
 
 you  are  in  heaven ;  but  in  my  fits  of  infidelity,  that 
 does  not  give  me  the  Jealt  confolation,  and  I  am  fo 
 wielded  as  to  wifh  you  groveling  on  the  earth  among 
 wretched  mortals  again.  At  prefent  I  know  not 
 where  to  find,  nor  where  to  place  your  Ladyfhip 
 to  my  full  fatisfaflion,  and  perhaps  lefs  to  your 
 own  :  For  I  am  not  fure  you  will  thank  me  for  fend- 
 ing you  to  the  fkies  fo  early,  and  before  you  find 
 any  reafon  to  be  weary  of  this  world. 
 
 The  Dachefs  of-= — 's  dying  at feem'd  to 
 
 be  a  melancholy  circumftance,  which  feldom  hap- 
 pens to  people  in  a  low  rank  ;  to  be  in  the  hurry 
 of  a  journey,  amidft  the  agonies  of  death,  had 
 fomething  difmal  in  it.     I  have  not  time  to  tran- 
 
 fcribe  the  fermon  1  told  Mrs I  would  fend  your 
 
 Ladyfhip,  and  you  may  not  be  quite  fo  impatient 
 for  it,  as  you  would  be  for  a  new  tragedy. 
 
 For  fear  you  fhould  not  have  fpirits  enough  to 
 read  a  long,  and  which  is  worfe,  a  dull  letter,  I 
 will  fubfcribe 
 
 Tour^  &c. 
 
 LETTER     LVIII. 
 
 To  thefamq. 
 
 Madanty 
 
 YOUR  Ladyfhip's  letter  has  freed  me  from 
 the  moft  racking  fufpence,  and  given  an  ala- 
 crity to  my  mind,  like  eafe  after  pain  ;  and  how 
 agreeable  an  alteration  that  is,  you  are  very  fenfi- 
 bic,  by  your  recovery  from  your  late  tormenting 
 diforder.  But  while  my  Lord  continues  ill,  1  find 
 you  will  not  enjoy  the  blefTing  of  your  own  eafe  ; 
 nor  is  it  pofiible  to  blame  a  concetn  fo  juft  and 
 grateful :  and  yet  the  height  of  human  pity  cannot 
 
 give 
 
LETTERS.         109 
 
 give  a  moment's  relief  in  pain,  thac  moft  intolerable 
 of  mortal  evils.  But  tho'  the  power  of  an  empire 
 could  not  exempt  the  greateft  of  mankind  from  this 
 one  calamity,  I  may  with  a  very  good  grace  wilh 
 your  Ladyfhip  many  happy  new  years,  as  you  are 
 the  delight  and  admiration  of  the  public.  If  I 
 thank  you  for  your  good  wifhes  of  this  fort,  'tis  in 
 mere  ceremony  ;  for  I  Ihould  in  treat  you  to  reverfe 
 your  prayers,  if  I  were  prepared  for  that  important 
 moment,  that  muft  decide  that  grand  uncertainty, 
 whether  I  fhall  be  miferable  or  happy  for  ever. 
 Could  that  doubt  be  fully  refolv'd  on  this  fide  the 
 fatal  darknefs  and  gloomy  paiTage  of  death  ;  were 
 all  the  profpe(5t  bright  and  unclouded  thro'  the 
 horrid  vale  •, 
 
 /  then  Jhould  clofe  my  weary  eyes  in  feace^ 
 And  ft  retch  composed  upon  my  dufty  bed, 
 O  Death  I  thy  filent  and  refrejhing  Jhads 
 Would  yield  a  long^  an  unmolefted  reft 
 '   From  all  the  fruitlefs  toils  and  vanity 
 ^hat  dwell  below  the  fun, 
 
 I  am,  &?r. 
 
 LETTER    LIX. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 
 THE  new  diflemper  is  at  prefent  very  fatal 
 in  this  town,  and  my  own  fervant  is  ill  in  it ; 
 which  has  put  me  into  a  more  ferious  temper  than 
 ufual.  I  would  fain  meet  death,  whenever  it  comes, 
 without  any  hurry  and  furprize.  The  greatelt 
 pleafure  I  take,  while  I  am  in  this  temper,  is  write- 
 
 ing 
 
no         LETTER  S. 
 
 ing  a  folemn  tarew!!  to  my  friends.  I  have  been 
 Jooking  over  one  letter,  I  kept  by  me,  to  your 
 Ladylhip,  and  am  now  going  to  burn  it,  and  v/rite 
 another,  as  I  exped  that  I  fhaJl  quit  the  toil  of  life 
 long  before  you. 
 
 And  may  fo?ne  gentle  ffirlt  have  command^ 
 ^0  waft  my  foul  to  the  celeftial  land ; 
 Where  I  fair  Delia'i  coming  will  attend^ 
 Till  freed  from  earth  fhe  thither  Jhall  afcend.     " 
 
 1  am  not  at  all  in  the  fpleen,  but  it  is  not  reafon- 
 able  for  me  to  expe6t  an  exemption  from  a  general 
 diforder.  As  to  this  world,  I  have  as  much  to 
 do  as  will  employ  me  two  or  three  hours,  and  then 
 I  am  even  with  all  mankind,  in  point  of  human 
 juftice.  I  have  no  reftitution  to  make,  nor  theleafl 
 known  injury  to  repair;  and  I  verily  believe  there 
 is  not  an  ill-gotten  penny  defcended  to  me  from  my 
 humble  but  pious  anceftors.  I  lay  a  much  greater 
 ftrefs  on  this  part  of  religion,  that  regards  man- 
 kind, than  I  do  on  any  height  of  devotion,  as 
 necefifary  as  I  think  it  to  reconcile  the  mind  to 
 death. 
 
 You  will  pardon  me,  Madam,  the  familiarity 
 I  have  us'd  in  running  into  a  fubjed  lb  particularly 
 my  own  concern  •,  it  was  not  in  the  leaft  my  defign, 
 but  there  is  a  pleafure  in  talking  freely  to  one  in 
 whom  I  fo  entirely  confide. 
 
 I  am^  &c. 
 
 LET- 
 
LETTERS.         Ill 
 
 LETTER    LX. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 
 MR.  Rolli*%  Milton  is  a  charming  amufement 
 for   the  quiec  and  folitary   hours  I  enjoy. 
 
 My  Lord- has  highly  oblig'd  me,  by  giving 
 
 me  an  entertainment  fo  perfedly  agreeable.  I  would 
 not  decide  with  the  vanity  of  a  critic  j  but  to  me 
 there  appears  all  MtUon*s  beauty  and  fpirit,  with 
 the  moll  exa6t  tranflation  in  the  world. 
 
 Your  Ladyfhip's  laft  letter  charm'd  me  fo 
 much,  that  I  got  every  word  of  it  in  my  memory. 
 I  hope  the  powers  of  darknefs  will  never  be  able, 
 with  all  their  policy,  to  draw  you  to  their  party, 
 for  then  their  allurements  will  be  refiftlefs.  I  would 
 rather  think  your  arguments  oppofite  to  their  in- 
 tereft,  and  that  you  would  perfuade  me  from  an 
 infignificant  life,  that  has  nothing  in  view  but  a 
 private  felfilh  happinefs.  Mr.  nomfon  has  furnifh^'d 
 me  with  fome  of  the  moft  agreeable  lines  in  the 
 world  to  exprefs  my  thoughts : 
 
 /  want  to  he  alone^  to  find  fome  Jhade^ 
 Some  folitary  gloom ;  there  to  Jhake  off 
 This  weight  of  lifcy  this  tumult  of  mankind  -y 
 And  there  to  lift  en  to  the  gentle  vokey 
 The  figh  of  peace,  — ^ 
 
 'Tis  a  noble  *  tragedy  ;  I  can't  help  preferring  ic 
 to  Mr.  Addifon's  Cato,  The  language  and  fentiments 
 have  all  a  peculiar  grandeur.  The  following  lines 
 give  me  a  very  good  opinion  of  the  author. 
 
112         LETTERS. 
 
 Te  myfterious  pow'rs^ 
 Whofe  ways  are  ever  gracious^  ever  juft^ 
 As  ye  think  wifeft,  heji,  difpofe  of  me. 
 But  whether  thro^  your  gloomy  depths  I  wander^ 
 Or  on  your  mountains  walk^  give  me  the  cahn^ 
 *The  fteady  fmiling  foul^  where  wifdomjheds 
 Eternal  wifdom^  and  eternal  joy* 
 
 In  reading  this,  a  fort  of  divine  contentment  fpreads 
 on  the  mind  ;  I  feem  to  want  nothing  but  to  be 
 wifer  and  better-,  of  which  you  will  think  there  is 
 evident  necefllty. 
 
 I  AM  beyond  exprefTion  oblig'd  to  your  Lady- 
 fhip  for  the  offer  of  the  pretty  peaceful  apartment, 
 fo  fuited  to  my  tafte  -,  and  your  neighbourhood  is 
 what  I  fhould   prefer   to  all  earthly  enjoyments: 
 
 But  ftill- 1  want  to  be  alone^^ tho'  not  for 
 
 fuch  meditations  as  MaJJiniJfa's.  The  limits  of  life 
 are  very  fhort,  and  I  feem  to  have  nothing  to  do 
 but  to  take  a  decent  farewel  of  human  things.  As 
 for  the  common  pretence  people  have  for  haunting 
 public  places  as  long  as  they  can  ftand,  that  of 
 doing  good;  I  can't  in  my  confcience  make  any 
 fuch  pretence,  nor  can  I  be  pofitive  'tis  ever  my 
 defign.  I  fliould  think  it  a  very  romantic  attempt 
 to  reform  the  world.  'Tis  hardly  poffible  in  the 
 decline  of  life  to  aft  an  applauded  and  exemplary 
 part.  Virtue  then,  tho' ever  fo  real  and  unaffeded, 
 looks  like  necefllty,  rather  than  choice  :  People 
 feem  reduc'd  to  goodnefs,  and  to  fly  to  religion 
 as  a  retreat. 
 
 I  WANT  to  be  interrupted,  like  Sancho,  I  can't 
 reafon  long  without  feme  convenient  paufe  and 
 intermilTion  ;  which  will  be  at  prefent  as  feafonable 
 for  your  LadyQiip,  as  for 
 
 2'{7//r,  &c. 
 
 .      ';  LET- 
 
LETTERS.  11^ 
 
 J 
 
 LETTER     LXL 
 
 7^  the  fame. 
 
 Madam, 
 
 YO  U  have  reafon  to  be  thankful  for  this  little 
 interval  of  quiet  and  leifure,  which  I  have 
 fuffer'd  you  to  enjoy  aniidft  your  country  amufe- 
 ments ;  but  as 
 
 Sooner  or  later  all  things  have  an  endy 
 
 the  period  of  my  filence  and  your  Ladyfhip's  tran* 
 quility  is  expir'd  •,  and  if  I  Ihould  not  moleft  you, 
 the  preparations  for  a  birth-night  will  foon  require 
 your  attention  to  the  pomps  and  vanities  of  the 
 world  •,  unlefs  you  can  bring  yourfelf  to  be  as  com- 
 pos'd  and  devout  amidft  the  magnificence  and  gal- 
 lantry of  a  drawing-room,  as  Dr.  Watts^  in  his 
 height  of  charity,  imagines.  However,  he  has  done 
 your  Ladyrtiip  but  juflice,  in  admiring  your  con- 
 dud,  while  you  can  move  and  fhine 
 
 On  this  enchanted  fpot  of  treacherous  ground. 
 Nor  give  your  virtue,  nor  your  fame  a  wound. 
 
 But  I  have  a  concern  of  a  different  nature  that 
 lies  at  my  heart  for  you.  This  enlighten'd  age  is 
 blefl  with  fo  many  Beau  apoftles  and  polite  mif- 
 fionaries,  that  I  am  in  feme  pain  for  fear  youfhould 
 be  converted  to  Heathenifm.  'Tis  fo  modifh  a 
 thing  to  turn  Pagan,  that  we  have  need  of  all  the 
 fortitude  Chriftianity  can  infpire,  to  own  a  finking, 
 tho'  in  reality  a  glorious  caufe.  May  the  heavenly 
 powers  preferve  you  from  this  grand  apoftafy  1  I 
 have  a  concern  fo  fincere  and  ardent  for  your  im- 
 mortal intereft,  that  I  cannot  command  my  tears, 
 while  I  think  it  polTible  you  Ihould  be  perverted 
 
 Vol,  II.  I  from 
 
114         LETTERS. 
 
 from  the  paths  of  facred  truth. 1  mud  make  a 
 
 vifit  to  your  farm  to  divert  the  gloom  of  my  ima- 
 gination -,  and  never  were  the  fcenes  of  innocence 
 and  peace  more  charmingly  defcrib'd  than  in  your 
 
 letter. 
 
 I  am^  bcc. 
 
 LETTER     LXIL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 YOUR  laft  letter,  tho'  too  lliort,  gave  m« 
 an  unfpeakable  fatisfadion,  at  a  time  when 
 very  few  things  in  the  world  could  have  given  me 
 the  lead  pleafure:  For  I  have  had  fome  fhort  fits 
 of  this  univerlal  diftemper^  and  want  of  health, 
 without  a  chain,  of  reafoning,  is  a  clear  demonftra- 
 tion  of  the  vanity  of  mortal  enjoyments.  The 
 only  circumftance  in  your  Ladyihip's^  letter  that 
 gave  me  fome  uneafmefs,  was  your  illnefs ;  but 
 as  you  feem'd  to  think  it  a  flight  diforder,  I  hope 
 you  are  by  this  titne  in  perfecl:  health. 
 
 1  AM  overjoy 'd  to  find  I  had  no  reafon  to  fu- 
 {ptd:  you  of  infidelity.  You  would  forgive  my  im- 
 pertinent fufplcions,  if  I  could  make  you  fenfible, 
 how  fincere  my  concern  for  your  happinefs  is :  In- 
 deed it  is  not  equal  to  the  importance  of  the  event, 
 in  which  immortality  is  concern'd  •,  nor  is  it  polii- 
 ble,  in  this  gloomy  ftate  of  things,  to  have  ap- 
 prehenfions  fuitable  to  the  grandeur  of  the  lubieCt. 
 
 I  AM  reading  's  hiftory  with  great  Hitislac- 
 
 tion.  I  know  your  Ladyihip  will  pity  my  ftupi- 
 dity,  that  can  read  a  hiifory  in  folio.  I  had  once 
 the  fame  fprightly  tafle,  to  defpife  every  thing  that 
 had  the  air  of  plain  unartful  truth  and  probability  ; 
 ^  but 
 
LETTERS.         W^ 
 
 but  now  it  is  much  more  agreeable  to  me  than  the 
 gayeft  fidlion. 
 
 Mrs.- —  is  charm'd  with  Lady and  Lord 
 
 •,  yet  how  uncertain  are  human  expedations  ! 
 
 Her  telling  of  the  death  of  Lady- 's  little  boy 
 
 gave  me  fome  uneafy  thoughts. 
 
 'Tis  well  for  you  that  I  am  not  quite  eafy  :  if 
 I  was,  you  might  not  be  fo  foon  free  from  the  im- 
 pertinence of 
 
 Tour,  &c. 
 
 LETTER     LXIIL 
 
 To  the  fcmte. 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 T  Cannot  excufe,  tho'  I   ftill   find  a  great  pro- 
 •■•  penfity  to   indulge  myfelf  in  what  you  call   a 
 criminal   tranquility,   but   I    arn   lo  fond  of  your 
 good  opinion,  that  I  fhould  be  cotntent  to  h'ave  ri^y 
 vices  pafs  for  virtues  with  you^  arid  would  fain  have 
 you   believe  this,  averfion  to  ceremony  and  depen- 
 dance  rather  piroceeds  from  greatnefs  ofmind,  than 
 from  pride:   Nor  am  I  lefs  inclined  to  impofe  on 
 you  than  on   myfelf;    for  Svhom  I  feldom  want 
 partiality,  and  never  fail  in  the  exercife  of  the  moft 
 extenfive  charity.     And  yet  I  have  too  much  fin- 
 cerity  to  perfuade  you  that  'tis  rather  my  duty  than 
 my  happinefs  that  I  confult  by  this  retreat  trom  the 
 public;  and  if  I   fhould  confefs   that  an  abfolute 
 freedom  from  all   the  formalities  and  cuftoms  of 
 the  world  is  a  part  of  my  felicity,  you  would  think 
 1  have  a  very  odd  notion  of  happinefs,  and  will  cer- 
 '^tainly  advife  me  to  regulate  fuch  a  licentious  and 
 "irregular  diipofition  ;  and  not  to  fancy  that  to  wake 
 or  fleep,  to  fit  or  Hand,  to  laugh  or  cry  at  my  own 
 leifure,  is  a  point  of  libercy  worth  llruggling  for. 
 
 I    2  I  KNOW 
 
ii6         LETTERS. 
 
 I  KNOW  not  what  orderly  and  governable  incli- 
 nations fome  people  have  acquir'd  •,  but  to  me  it 
 feems  a  vaft  privilege,  to  be  ruftic  or  polite,  wife 
 or  impertinent,  without  being  cenfur'd,  or  account- 
 able to  my  fellow-mortals.  But  this  may  perhaps 
 be  foothing  myfelf  in  a  guilty  indolence  ;  for  peopie 
 are  not  fent  into  the  world  as  idle  fpedators,  to 
 wake  and  fleep,  and  flare  at  the  vain  fhow  for  a 
 few  years,  and  then  to  make  their  exit. 
 
 You  find,  Madam,  I  have  not  the  vanity  to 
 pretend  to  a  devout  retirement,  nor  affc6t  any  re- 
 clufe  notions  of  religion  ;  my  thoughts  of  that  are 
 jufl  the  reverfe,  and  all  eafy  and  fociable. 
 
 I  HAVE  form'd  many  a  vifionary  plan  of  coming 
 
 nearer  to ,  and  appearing,  and  retiring,  jult 
 
 as  your  Ladyfhip's  commands,  or  my  own  caprice 
 fhould  diredl ;  but  fomething  or  other  has  ftill  fru- 
 flrated  my  attempts,  while  I  have  been  moft  fin- 
 cere  in  my  defigns,  and  entertain'd  myfelf  with  a 
 thoufand  agreeable  fcenes  in  the  view  of  fuch  an 
 happinefs.  By  my  deliberation,  you  will  think  I 
 fancy  myfelf  jufl  coming  into  the  world,  fince  I 
 can  find  leifure  to  form  ichemes  of  diflant  felicity, 
 and  purfue  them  as  flowly  as  if  I  had  an  hundred 
 years  leafe  of  life  before  me.  'Tis  jufl  the  con- 
 trary ;  my  negligence  arifes  from  the  narrow  limits 
 in  which  human  life  appears  to  my  view;  which 
 feems  fo  confin'd,  that  'tis  hardly  worth  while  for 
 portals  to  change  the  fcene  and  vary  the  adion. 
 
 Swift  a^  the  fun  revolves  the  da)\ 
 We  hafien  to  the  dead. 
 
 Dr.  Watts. 
 
 ,  I  HAVE  been  reading  the  life  of  the  Countefs 
 of  IVarw'ick  with  great  pleafurc,  and  the  more  be- 
 caufe  fome  beautiful  parts  of  her  chara6ler  refem- 
 bled  yours.  May  the  lafl  part  of  your  life  (how- 
 ever 
 
LETTERS.         117 
 
 ever  diftant)  be  as  glorious !  Tho*  it  is  not  very 
 niodifh  to  pray,  perhaps  ic  may  not  be  altogether 
 unnecefTary  •,  and  in  alking  bleflings  for  you,  my 
 devotions  are  mofl  unaffected  and  fincere. 
 
 /  a7n^  &c. 
 
 LETTER    LXIV. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  y 
 
 1"^HIS  wintry  weather  has  fpoil'd  all  my  pro- 
 jects, and  confin'd  all  my  views  of  happinefs 
 to  the  folitary  limits  of  a  clean  room  and  a  clear 
 fire.  I  find  I  mud  fufpend  the  hopes  of  feeing  your 
 Ladylhip  to  fome  diftant  and  unknown  futurity; 
 which,  whether  ever  it  will  arrive,  is  beyond  the 
 ken  of  mortals.  If  it  fliould  not,  'tis  but  havincr 
 a  little  patience,  and  we  fnall  meet,  I  hope,  where 
 the  height  of  virtuous  friendfliip  and  every  other 
 joy  will  be  complete :  Till  then  I  could  quietly 
 fit  down  in  fome  verdant  fhade,  and  wait  the  furh- 
 mons  to  happier  worlds  :  Heaven  blefs  you  !  if  I 
 never  fee  you  in  this  again.  But  the  pleafure  of 
 converfing  with  you  is  not  a  fatisfadion  I  can  refign 
 with  half  the  coolnefs  and  moderation  that  you 
 have  reprefented.  Your  Ladylhip  has  indeed  fpoke 
 for  me  with  much  more  wit  and  eloquence  than  I 
 could  ever  command  ;  but  if  I  had  made  a  fpeech 
 for  myfelf,  it  would  have  been  very  different,  and 
 much  more  agreeable  to  the  real  fentiments  of  my 
 heart. 
 
 You  are  not  more  delighted  with  a  country 
 farm,  than  I  am  with  an  old  parfonage-houfe,  in  a 
 little  village,  where  I  was  lately  a  few  hours ;  fo 
 
 I  2  fituated 
 
ii8         LETTERS. 
 
 fuuaced  to  my  content,  that  I  fcem'd  to  want  no- 
 thing buk  your  reflcd;ibns  and  Ibciety,  to  form  a 
 complete  happinefs.  A  large  garden  and  orchard, 
 half  modern  and  half  antiquated ,  long  codling- 
 hedges,  old-fa fliion'd  bovvers,  elms  and  apple-trees, 
 green-fquares  and  maple-buihes,  all  in  the  moll  gay 
 and  agreeable  confufion  imaginable:  Thefe  fcenes 
 infinitely  charm'd  me  ;  and,  with  the  unafieded 
 piety  and  politenefs  of  the  family,  gave  me  an  ex- 
 ceeding favourable  opinion  of  their  principles,  and 
 
 a  fore  of  fulpicion  of  my  own.  If  I  had  made 
 
 the  tour  of  France^  and  feen  the  gardens  of  Ver- 
 failles^  it  would  have  been  cxcufible  to  have  been 
 {o  communicative  of  my  fatisfaclions  -,  but  to  trou- 
 ble your  Ladydiip  with  the  defcription  of  old  mo- 
 nafberies  and  box-hedges  is  fomewhat  impertinent 
 1  confefs. 
 
 Your  LadyHiip  will,  I  hope,  be  half  afleep, 
 when  you  read  my  letter,  for,  at  fecond  reading, 
 I  perceive  fome  inconfiiiencies  in  it  *,  but  writing 
 nonfenfe  is  not  a  very  humbling  circumftance  to 
 vne,  becaufe  it  is  the  effecl:  of  necelTity  rather  than 
 choice.  All  I  can  do  in  this  cafe  is  to  cait  myfelf 
 on  the  charity  of  my  gentle  and  candid  readers, 
 which  has  been  my  conftant  refuge  in  many  diftreffes 
 of  this  nature. 
 
 I  HAVE  been  entertain'd  with  fome  very  beau- 
 tiful remarks  on  the  exprelTion  us'd  in  the  facred 
 writings,  of  the  Parriarchs  dyings  and  being  ga- 
 thered to  their  peopk^  It  has  reconcil'd  me  to 
 afTemblies,  by  giving  me  fuch  a  grand  idea  of  that 
 auguft  and  fparkling  allcmbly,  to  which  the  fpirits 
 of  the  jufl  have  been  gather'd  fince  the  firfl  ages 
 of  the  vvorld.  As  little  as  I  love  crowds,  I  am 
 exceedingly  pleased  with  the  thoughts  of  that  num- 
 berlefs  concourfe  of  the  great  immortals,  join'd 
 together  to  pafs  an  endlefs  duration,  in  an  immenfe 
 variety  of  joy  and  complete  felicity. 
 
 While 
 
LETTERS.  rig 
 
 While  they  rove 
 For  ever  thro"  new  regions  of  delight ; 
 Where  pleafure  leads  her  everlajling  train^ 
 Beauty  and  youths  in  all  the  rofy  bloo?n 
 Of  charms  immortal  and  unfading  life. 
 
 The  rnufe  defcends,  and  in  dull  profe 
 
 /  am^  &c. 
 
 LETTER     LXV^ 
 
 Th  the  jame. 
 
 Madam^ 
 
 IT  gives  me  a  fincere  pleafure  to  hear  that  your 
 ■'Ladyfliip  got  fafe  to ,  and  found  Lady 
 
 ' well,  and  Lord recovering.     I  (laid  till 
 
 the  middle  of  the  next  week  after  you  \th  the  Bath^ 
 in  which  time  I  fpent  a  few  hours  agreeably  with 
 my  Lady — — •,  who  brings  back  to  my  remem- 
 brance one  of  the  moft  amiable  characters  I  ever 
 knew,  and  which  gratitude  will  never  fuller  me  to 
 forget. 
 
 I  SHOULD  be  miferable  if  my  mind  was  always 
 in  that  impertinent  fituation,  that  I  find  it  amidfb' 
 the  noife  and  amufements  of  this  world  -,  a  train  of 
 inconfiftent  images,  a  fucceffion  of  chimera's  run 
 thro*  my  imagination,  without  the  leaft  propriety 
 or  order,  I  could  compare  my  head  to  nothing 
 but  the  cafe  of  a  Raree-fJoow  ;  and  if  the  figures 
 had  been  vifible,  I  might  have  entertain'd  the  mob 
 with  the  ridiculous  pageantry.  How  fuperior  to 
 thofe  vanities  are  the  facisfadions  of  reafon  and 
 virtue  I  If  religion  is  a  cheat,  let  me  be  (fill  de- 
 ceived j  let  m-e  indulge  the  gay  delufion,  and  recre- 
 
 I  4  ate 
 
I20         LETTERS. 
 
 ate  my  fou!  with  the  cranTporcing  expedlation.  Stand 
 forth,  ye  glorious  phantoms,  and  entertain  my  at- 
 tention in  all  your  vifionary  fplendors!  Let  me  be 
 well  deceived,  and  at  leaft  be  happv  till  death  fhall 
 put  a  period  to  the  pleaiing  dream.  Were  the 
 Chriilian  heaven  as  fabulous  as  the  ^oti%  Elyfium^ 
 I  would  meet  the  height  of  human  cenfure  and 
 contempt,  rather  than  be  undeceiv'd  and  cur'd  of 
 the  charming  delirium.  But  the  prefent  pleafures 
 of  virtue  are  to  me  a  full  demonlbation  how  bright 
 its  future  reward  mud  be. 
 
 Your  Ladyiliip  has  highly  oblig'd  me  by  wifh- 
 ing  me  among  the  angels  •,  the  moment  I  am  fie 
 for  that  fociety,  let  me  refign  my  breath,  and  join 
 the  illuftrious  affembly.  But  if  the  prayers  ot  de- 
 parted faints  can  prevail,  you  fhall  not  (lay  long 
 behind  me.  Confider  there  are  filver  trumpets  as 
 well  as  golden  harps  to  entertain  you. 
 
 /  am^  &c. 
 
 1 0j^.  u^  SJi.  @>.  ^^±^Aii  ©ii  '^^  m.  ®i^  ©.f 
 
 LETTER     LXVI. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 
 YOU  will  think  me  very  blind  to  my  own  fol- 
 lies, if  I  tell  your  Lady  (hip,,  that  I  have  an 
 averfion  to  be  impertinent  and  troublefome,  and 
 that  I  never  am  fo  without  great  caution  and  diffi- 
 dence of  myfelf;  but  'tis  an  experienced  truth,  and 
 I  feel  a  fecret  anxiety,  left  this  letter  fhould  moleft 
 you  in  fome  moments  of  tranquility,  when  you 
 would  fain  be  at  reft  from  any  interruption.  And 
 this  is  the  third  vexation  I  have  given  you  fince  I 
 
 heard  from  you ;  but  Mrs. 's  account  of  your 
 
 illnefs  has  given  me  many  uneafy  thoughts. 
 
 No 
 
LETTERS.         121 
 
 No  advantages  can  fecure  from  difeafe  and  death; 
 the  laft  account  I  heard  of  Lady  Scudamore  was 
 very  melancholy  ;  but  fhe  muft  be  happy,  be  the 
 
 event  what  it  will.  I  am  in  great  pain  for  Lord 
 
 fince  I  heard  the  fmail-pox  is  fo  very  mortal,  and 
 I  wilh  this  letter  may  find  you  in  the  country. 
 
 In  my  dull  way  I  have  been  diverting  myfelf 
 with  copying  one  of  the  prints  of  Alhanus  -,  but  'tis 
 no  matter  what  I  have  been  doing,  nor  do  I  fuppofe 
 you  are  much  concern'd  to  know.  However,  I 
 long  to  hear  what  you  have  been  doing  or  think- 
 ing j  for  I  begin  to  fear  you  have  only  an  imagi- 
 nary being,  and  are  but  fome  fparkling  idea,  which 
 in  the  flight  of  a  poetical  fancy  I  have  been  de- 
 lighted with. 
 
 1  HAD  writ  fo  far  in  my  letter,  when  your  La- 
 dyfhip's  came  with  the  fad  tidings  of  Lady  Scuda- 
 more\  death :  All  that  allays  the  gloomy  event  is 
 the  certainty  of  her  happinefs.  But,  to  the  public, 
 there  is  no  reparation  for  fuch  a  lofs  (when  you  are 
 excepted.)  But  'tis  not  long  before  her  virtuous 
 friends  will  again  enjoy  her  lociety  *,  while  her  fa- 
 vour'd  lot  has  call'd  her  firft  to  the  feats  of  peace 
 and  full  felicity. 
 
 I  SHOULD  be  extremely  griev'd,  if  I  thought 
 your  Lady  (hip's  retirement  from  public  places  was 
 the  efFedl  of  want  of  health  or  fpirits :  'Tis  a  plea- 
 fure  to  me  to  believe,  that  it  is  only  owing  to  good 
 i^nk,,  and  a  juft  opinion  of  human  life. 
 
 /  am<i  &c. 
 
 LET- 
 
122  LETTERS. 
 
 LETTER     LXVIL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 'npIS  a  pleafure  to  me,  to  hear  your  Ladyfhip 
 ^  complain  of  a  hurry,  and  to  find  you  are  not 
 fatisfy'd  with  that  thoughtlefs  unmeaning  fort  of 
 happinefs.  Leifure  and  freedom  are  certainly  the 
 principal  ingredients  of  human  felicity  •,  and  while 
 you  want  thefe,  I  fhould  certainly  bellow  my  com- 
 paflion  on  you,  if  it  would  not  look  like  infolence, 
 within  the  obfcure  limits  of  a  folitary  chamber,  to 
 
 pity  the  Countefs  of -.     But  your  Ladyfhip 
 
 will  excufe  me,  when  I  own,  it  is  only  with  regard 
 to  the  next  world,  that  I  fee  any  difadvantage  in 
 your  flation  ;  and  yet  every  difficulty  gives  a  fplen- 
 dor  to  your  example,  and  makes  the  vidlory  more 
 glorious. 
 
 THE-V-erfes  following  were  writ  by  a  man  of 
 good  fenfe,  who  fmce  he  wrote  them  is  gone  to 
 make  the  important  difcovcry  in  the  invifible  world. 
 
 Hark  /  7ny  gay  friend^  that  folemn  toll 
 Speaks  the  departure  of  a  foul\ 
 
 ^Tis  gone that'^s  all  we  know\  hut  where ^ 
 
 Or  how  th'^ufibodfd  foul  does  fare^ 
 
 In  that  myfterious  world,  God  knows^ 
 And  God  alone^  to  whom  it  goes  j 
 51?  whom  departed  fouls  return^ 
 To  know  their  doom,  to  fhine,  or  hum. 
 
 Ah  f  hy  what  glimmering  light  we  view 
 The  unknown  world  weVe  hajl'ning  to : 
 
 Heav*n 
 
LETTERS.         123 
 
 Heaven  has  locked  out  the  future  age^ 
 And  planted  darknefs  round  the  ft  age, 
 
 'This  hour  perhaps  our  friend  is  welly 
 Death-ftruck  the  nexty  cries  outy  Farewell 
 I  die  I  And  theUy  for  ought  we  fee, 
 Ceafes  at  once  to  breathe  and  be, 
 
 Then  launched  from  lifers  ambiguous  Jhore^ 
 Ingulph^d  in  death  appears  no  more  \ 
 T^immerge  where  unfeen  ghofts  repair^ 
 In  diftant  worlds^  we  know  not  where,, 
 
 Spirits  fly  fwift ;  perhaps  'tis  gone 
 A  thoufand  leagues  beyond  the  fuHy 
 Or  twice  ten  thoufand  more  twice  told  \ 
 Ere  the  forfaken  clay  is  cold. 
 
 And  yet  who  knows y  the  friends  we  lov'd^ 
 They  may  not  be  fo  far  removed  j 
 -Only  the  veil  of  flefh  between^ 
 May  oft  glide  by  us  tho*  unfeen. 
 
 While  we  (their  lof  la?nenting)  fay 
 They're  out  of  hearings  far  away ; 
 Guardians  to  us  perhaps  they're  near^ 
 Concealed  in  vehicles  of  air, 
 
 I  am,  ^c* 
 
 LET- 
 
124         LETTER  S. 
 
 LETTER    LXVin. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Y 
 
 Madam^ 
 
 O  U  have  jufl:  reafon  to  think  my  (ilcnce  a 
 greater  bltrffing  than  my  letters.  I  am  afraid 
 this  is  really  the  cafe,  and  that  your  Ladyfhip  re- 
 joices at  this  interval  of  tranquility  I  have  given 
 you.  However,  as  I  have  in  fo  abftradl  and  dif- 
 interefted  a  manner  confulted  your  quiet,  after  this 
 long  paufe,  I  hope  you  v^ill  indulge  me  in  purfu- 
 ing  my  own  happinefs  •,  which,  however  felfifh  the 
 motive,  I  muft  own  is  my  prefent  defign.  I  am 
 impatient  to  know  whether  you  are  in  a  humour 
 for  this  world,  or  the  next.  'Tis  not  envy  that 
 makes  me  wifh  this  may  not  be  your  refting-place, 
 but  pure  chriftian  charity.  If  you  were  exempt 
 from  thofe  clouds,  that  fometimes  call  a  fhadow 
 upon  all  human  blifs,  fuch  a  ferene  Hate  might  be 
 fatal  to  your  future  hope. 
 
 Nothing  but  mere  dullnefs  and  want  of  inven- 
 tion has  kept   me  from  writing  another  epiftle  to 
 
 Lady .  There  is  no  conquering  infuperable 
 
 difficukies,  nor  ftriving  againft  nature  and  neceflity. 
 
 Let  me  beg  the  favour  of  your  Ladyfhip  to 
 write  in  a  little  time.  My  pradife  is  no  rule  for 
 you;  if  I  give  myfelf  a  full  difpenfation  from  the 
 rules  and  forms  of  this  world,  'tis  becaufe  I  think 
 I  am  going  to  another  fett  of  beings,  and  muft 
 fhortly  pradife  cuftoms  and  manners  different  from 
 the  ceremonies  of  mortals  :  But  youth  and  fprightly 
 years  are  Hill  before  you,  and  the  world  will  not 
 yet  give  you  an  abfolution  from  its  rules  and  pre- 
 cepts. Hov/ever,  you  may  command  Mrs.— — 
 to  let  me  know  you  are  alive,  if  Ihe  has  not  made 
 
 a  vow 
 
LETTERS.         125 
 
 a  VOW  never  to  write  to  me  again.     The  hearing 
 from  you  will  be  a  fincere  pleafure  to 
 
 LETTER    LXIX, 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam^ 
 
 HOPE,  tho'  your  health  has  feme  little  inter- 
 ruptions, your  life  will  long  be  a  joy  to  your 
 friends,  and  a  peculiar  blefTing  to  your  own  family. 
 
 If  I  fhould  be  fo  unhappy  as  not  to  return  juft. 
 fuch  an  anfwer  as  you  would  have  me,  *tis  becaufe 
 I  can't  help  it.  Human  anions  are  not  always 
 voluntary  -,  however  we  boaft  of  choice  and  freedom, 
 fome  invifible  powers  put  obftacles  in  our  way,  and 
 prevent  the  mod  promifing  defigns.  I  find  it  by 
 experience,  and  am  now  under  the  influence  of  a 
 fort  of  fatal  necelTity,  which  makes  it  abfolutely 
 impofTible  for  me  to  wait  on  your  Ladyfhipat  this 
 time:  But  I  fincerely  believe  I  fliallbe  in  London  ^ 
 fome  time  after  Chriftmas -^  and  then,  if  you  have 
 any  leifure  moments,  or  I  any  fprightly  ones,  next 
 to  Heaven,  they  fhall  be  at  your  command  *,  which 
 will  be  much  better  than  teizing  you  with  my  com- 
 pany from  the  rifing  to  the  fetting  fjn. 
 
 From  morn  to  noon^  from  noon  to  dewy  night. 
 
 If  this  appointment  fails,  'tis  my  pre fenc  real  defign 
 to  wait  on  you  in  the  fpring  -,  but  at  this  time  I 
 hope  you  will  excufe  me,  becaufe  it  will  be  a  pro- 
 digious inconveniency,  if  not  abfolutely  impolfible 
 for  me  to  come  now. 
 
 You  have  all  the  fweetnefs  of  temper  that  ever 
 any  i  um.m  being  couli  boaft,  ard  t'lat  gives  me 
 
 the 
 
126         LETTERS. 
 
 the  afiTurance  even  at  this  jun(5lure,  to  beg  of  your 
 Ladyfhip  to  fend  me  fomeching  or  other  that  I 
 have  not  feen.  I  can't  tell  whether  you  have  feen 
 thefe  verfes,  which  were  fent  me  by  the  author, 
 Mr.  Birch,     I  fancy  they  will  pleafe  you. 
 
 You  have  a  better  opinion  of  me  than  I  deferve. 
 I  have  not  wrote  any  pious  meditations  of  laie. 
 The  warmth  of  devotion,  perhaps,  as  well  as  other 
 paflions,  declines  with  life  ;  but  I  hope  the  calm, 
 the  reafonable  and  folid  part  of  religion  ftill  will 
 be  improv'd.  Whatever  changes  there  are  in  my 
 mind,  my  friend Ihip  for  you  is  an  equal  and  im- 
 mortal flame,  and  will  outlive  the  ceremony  of 
 fubfcribing  myfelf 
 
 Tour^  &c. 
 
 On  the  Death  of  a  beloved  Wife. 
 Written  by  her  Hushand  on  her  Coffin, 
 
 •flTHILE  pining  anguifh,  wild  defpair, 
 Increafe  my  pangs,  prolong  my  care  ; 
 Depriv'd  of  all  my  foul  held  dear. 
 Enchanting  joy  and   love  fincere ; 
 "While  round  the  gloomy  fcene's  difplay*d. 
 And  death  ftill  deepens  ev'ry  fhade ; 
 Sad,  filent,  dark,  the  pomp  of  woe  ! 
 Shall  forrow's  eye  forbear  to  flow? 
 
 Flow  ftill,  ye  tears !  ye  fighs,  complain  ! 
 
 *. 
 
 But  fighs  and  tears  alike  are  vain! 
 
 See  there  all  pale  and  dead  ftie  lies  I 
 
 For  ever  flow,  my  ftreaming  eyes  I 
 
 Fly,  Hymen^  with  extinguifli'd  fires! 
 
 Fly  nuptial  blifs,  and  chafte  defires  I 
 
 Ckora's  fled,  the  lovelicft  mind  ; 
 
 Faith,  fwcecnefs,  v/ir,  together  joinVk 
 
 \  — Dwelt 
 
 X 
 
LETTERS.         127 
 
 . Dwelt  faith,  and  wit,  and  fweetnefs  here? 
 
 O  view  the  change,  and  drop  a  tear ! 
 Once  in  thefe  eyes  each  grace  was  feen. 
 And  love  and  mildnefs  fhone  ferene : 
 Once  foft  perfuafion  tun'd  her  tongue. 
 As  truth  fincere,  and  fweet  ias  fong: 
 Once  this  cold  hand  could  touch  the  lyre 
 And  ev*ry  tender  thought  infpire  : 
 Now 'finking  to  its  parent  clay. 
 All  chang'd  the  body  feems  to  fay. 
 Thus  life,  a  fhadow,  fleets  away  ! 
 
 O  WHISPER  ftill,  thou  voice  divine! 
 Thine  be  the  lore,  attention  mine. 
 And  while  this  awful  obje6t  lies 
 Expos'd  before  my  weeping  eyes. 
 Teach  me  fome  genius  from  on  high. 
 Like  her  to  live,  like  her  to  die  ; 
 To  emulate  the  paths  fhe  trod, 
 All  humane,  gen'rous,  great  and  good  ! 
 Like  her  the  rage  of  death  to  charm. 
 And  ev'ry  fl:ing  of  pain  difarm : 
 Rife  as  fhe  rofe,  a  fpotlefs  foul. 
 Who  aim'd  at  joys  beyond  the  pole; 
 And  raptur'd  on  the  verge  of  day, 
 Smil'd  to  behold  the  fhining  way. 
 
 But,  hark!  the  fadly-folemn  bell 
 Sullenly  founds  my  lafl:  farewel. 
 Lo !  round  the  corfe  the  plaintive  throng 
 Slow-moving,  filent  flalk  along. 
 The  torch  that  lends  its  mournful  light. 
 The  m.yflic  pray'r,  the  fun'ral  rice, 
 The  weeping  friend,  th'expeding  ground. 
 The  filent  horror  all  around,  Have 
 
128         LETTERS. 
 
 Have  tempted  Sorrow  from  her  cave, 
 And  now  fhe  hovers  o'er  the  grave  j 
 Nowfmks  our  hearts,  impearls  our  eyes. 
 And  bids  a  gen'ral  groan  arife  ; 
 Exclaims  that  man  was  doom'd  to  mournj 
 And  fits  in  pomp  to  guard  the  urn. 
 
 *Tis  done  !  — —  O  ever  dear,  adieu  ! 
 Each  tender  name  is  loft  in  you. 
 Adieu,  thou  once  kind,  lovely  fair! 
 Soft  fpring  of  joy,  relief  from  care  I 
 O  reft  !  may  love,  with  ev'ry  Grace, 
 And  ev'ry  Virtue,  guard  the  place  ! 
 While  me  receives  the  lonely  bed. 
 Sad,  proftrate,  filent  as  the  dead  1 
 Reftlefs  I  prefs  the  well-known  place. 
 And  vainly  feek  the  dear  embrace  ; 
 While  flow  and  drear  the  minutes  roll, 
 And  anguifh  racks  my  inmoft  foul. 
 
 But  fee!  what  heav'nly  pow'r  ferene 
 
 Darts  gently  thro'  the  gloomy  fcene  ? 
 'Tis  fhe  !  ingliding  from  above  ; 
 The  fame  her  form,  the  fame  her  love. 
 
 Weep'st  thou,  my  deareft  ?  weep  no  more  I 
 Tho'  tranfient  fcenes  of  life  are  o'er  : 
 New  worlds  now  open  to  my  view  •, 
 Blifs,  knowledge,  virtue,  boundlefs,  true  v 
 Where  fouls  with  focial  raptures  glow. 
 While  fin  and  vengeance  reign  below. 
 Hence  nightly  I,  thy  guardian  pow'r, 
 For  ever  confcious  of  the  hour 
 That'join'd  our  hearts,  defcend  to  keep 
 My  deareft  charge  ;  to  watch  thy  fleep, 
 
 Hint 
 
LETTERS.         129 
 
 Hint  fofcer  dreams ;  to  chafe  away 
 
 Black  error's  mifl:,  and  bright  difplay 
 
 The  form  of  virtue  to  thy  fight; 
 
 Dart  o'er  thy  foul  a  ftronger  light  -, 
 
 In  reafon*s  voice  to  whifper  ftill ; 
 
 To  purer  blifs  dired  thy  will ; 
 
 A  beamy  cloud  around  you  throw. 
 
 And  viewlefs  guide  you  as  you  go.  1 
 
 Lo!  (few  fhort  moments  roU'd  between) 
 
 I  prefent  change  the  darkfome  fcene  ;  • 
 
 Difpel  the  awful  fhades  of  death. 
 
 And  gently  eafe  your  parting  breath ;  • " 
 
 Glad  hail  you  to  the  realms  above, 
 
 Dear,  bleft,  immortal  as  our  love  !  - 
 
 Thus  while  we  leave  thy  lifelefs  clay. 
 
 To  fome  bright  orb  thy  foul  convey. 
 
 Where  virtue,  truth,  and  pleafure  join. 
 
 And  raptur'd  fay  — —This  feat  be  thine  ! 
 
 Here  knowledge  great  as  fouls  can  know,  • 
 
 Shall  purge  the  errors  learn'd  below  *, 
 
 Enlarge  thy  pow'rs,  improve  thy  fight. 
 
 And  Ihew  thee  truth  in  native  light. 
 
 See  there  yon  happy  fhades  employ 
 
 Their  hours  in  blifs  and  focial  joy  ;  ^ 
 
 High-rais'd  on  virtue's  eagle  wing. 
 
 The  patriots  adl,  the  poets  fing  -, 
 
 With  purer  fires  the  lovers  glow. 
 
 Than  youth  or  fenfe  infpire  below. 
 
 Here  join  we  then  the  kindred  race. 
 
 That  fprings  to  meet  our  foft  embrace  ; 
 
 Or  in  fome  fweet  fequefter'd  grove 
 
 Mix  fiame  with  fiame,  and  love  with  love. 
 
 Vol.  IL  K  Hence 
 
ruf 
 
 130         LETTERS. 
 
 Hence  wing'd  with  thought  excurfive  fly. 
 From  orb  to  orb,  and  range  the  fl<:y. 
 View  wifdom,  pow'r,  and  goodnefs  fhine 
 Thro'  {lature's  frame ;  their  fource  divine. 
 — O  call  thefe  fcenes  to  thy  relief. 
 Bright  future  fcenes!  and  calm  thy  grief: 
 Live  happy  •,  nourifn  ftill  the  love. 
 That  bleft  on  earth,  and  joins  our  fouls  above. 
 
 She  fpake,  fhe  fmil'd,  Ihe  foar'd  away  5 
 While  comfort  glanc'd  a  healing  ray. 
 
 ^^^.  3.  1729. 
 
 LETTER    LXX. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 '"r*'  H I S  is  not  my  farewel-letter  ;  nor  can  you 
 ,i.  hope  for  that,  till  I  take  my  leave  of  the  fun 
 and  ilars.  My  friendfhip  will  follow  you  till  then, 
 nor  expire  with  that  period  \  'tis  commenc'd  for 
 immortality,  and  is  abftrad  from  all  human  mo- 
 tives or  intereft.     Nor  really.  Lady    ,  am 
 
 I  fo  much  to  blame  as  I  appear ;  for  I  had  not  your 
 laft  letter  till  after  mine  was  gone  by  the  poll.  It  was 
 bell  that  it  happen'd  fo;  for  I  was  taken  fo  violently 
 ill,  two  or  three  days  after,  in  the  new  fort  of  di- 
 ftemper,  that  you  would  not  have  thought  I  had  a 
 week  to  live,  and  I  am  hardly  now  recovered.  You 
 can't  be  angry,  without  doing  violence  to  the  be- 
 nignity of  your  own  temper.  Confider,  if  I  have  a 
 boaft,  a  joy  on  earth,  'tis  your  good  opinion.  I 
 hope:  I  have  not  been  guilty  of  a  breach  of  promife, 
 
 ia 
 
LETTERS,         131 
 
 in  not  waiting  on  you,  becaufe  I  am  fo  careful  ne- 
 ver to  promife  any  thing  abfolutely.  Let  me  beg 
 you  to  write,  if  'tis  nothing  but  to  infuk  me  with 
 my  ill  deferts,  and  your  own  fuperior  merit;  which 
 fhall  be  moil  readily  acknowledg'd  by 
 
 Tour^  &c. 
 
 LETTER    LXXr. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam^  Nov.26,  ly^i. 
 
 *rTr'^IS  your  eafe  rather  than  mine  own,  that  I 
 
 X  have  confulted  in  this  long  filence :  But  in 
 fpight  of  moral  fpeculations,  I  find  a  great  part  of 
 my  happinefs  depends  on  your  Ladyfhip's  welfare 
 and  good  opinion ;  and  when  I  don't  hear  from 
 you,  I  grow  anxious  for  you,  or  diffident  of  my- 
 leJf. 
 
 Your  defcription  of  the  Duke  of  Lorain  is  too 
 beautiful  to  be  read  with  mere  infenfibility:  How- 
 ever, 'tis  only  in  fome  moments  of  vanity  that  gran- 
 deur and  equipage  charm  me;  for  if  I  know  myfelf,  I 
 fhould  certainly  chufe  that  peaceful  retired  life, which 
 heaven  in  great  indulgence  has  determin'd  for  me.  But 
 I  am  not  loft  in  fuch  a  dead  calm,  as  to  be  indifferent 
 to  all  the  fhining  charadiers  in  the  Grand  Monde  y 
 for  it  would  extremely  oblige  me,  if  your  Lady- 
 fhip  would  fometimes  mention  your  acquaintance 
 with  Lady  -- — —  and  Lord  — — —  ;  of  whofe 
 merit  I  fhould  certainly  be  fenfible,  if  they  had  nei- 
 ther tides  nor  quality,  and  liv'd  at  the  next  coun- 
 try farm. 
 
 K    2  1  SIN- 
 
132         LETTERS. 
 
 I  SINCERELY  intended  to  bQ  zt  Hampfte ad  this 
 winter  ;  but  now  the  fatigue  appears  nearer,  I  find 
 nryfelf  as  likely  to  make  a  pilgrimage  to  LorettOy  as 
 uke  a  journey  to  London. 
 
 'Tis  too  late,  or  I  would  write  to  Mrs. -, 
 
 her  lad  letter  gives  me  real  uneafmefs.  1  muft 
 have  been  guilty  of  fome  fantaftical  precifenefs, 
 that  file  mifunderftands ;  for  my  foul  ftands  clear 
 of  malignity,  or  defign'd  injury.  But  this  is  the 
 world  of  errors  and  miftakes ;  which  will  be  all  fee 
 at  rights  in  the  regions  of  purer  illumination. 
 
 /  am^  &c. 
 
 LETTER    LXXIL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam^ 
 
 WHETHER  I  fpeak  or  am  filent,  my  fen- 
 timents  tor  you  are  full  of  good-will  and 
 benignity  -,  of  this  Heaven  is  a  conftant  witnefs^ 
 who  fees  my  fecret  and  mofl  retir'd  wifhes  for  your 
 happinefs.  The  friendfhip  fuch  merit  as  yours  in- 
 fpires,  mull  be  fuperior  to  common  forms. and  ce- 
 remony, and  govern'd  only  by  its  own  noble  dic- 
 tates. I  muil  confefs,  that  I  fometimes  accufe  my- 
 felf  of  a  too  negligent  fnicerity  •,  but  this  your  La- 
 dyfliip  may  eafily  excufe,  when  you  confider  I  have 
 made  you  perfonate  a  rural  nymph  fo  long,  that 
 I  have  almoft  forgot  you  are  the  much  happier 
 
 Countefs  of  .     That  advantage  is  indeed 
 
 your  Ladylhip's,    as  well  as  Lord  — ■ *s;    for 
 
 whom  I  am  fincerely  afflidted  to  hear  he  has  had  fo 
 fevere  a  fit  of  the  gout:  But  if  any  thing  could  eafe 
 fuch  anguifii,  it  mull  be  the  tender  and  unafFedled 
 
 humanity 
 
LETTERS.         133 
 
 liumanity  your  a6lions  exprefs.  But  I  mufl  confefs, 
 when  I  am  fo  felfifh,  fo  intereitcd,  (as  I  fometimes 
 am)  to  trouble  myfelf  for  nobody's  happinefs  but 
 my  own,  I  then  wifh  your  lot  had  been  in  the  hum- 
 ble tranquility  of  a  lower  ftation :  Becaufe  among 
 the  human  race  there  is  no  perfon  whom  I  am  half 
 fo  much  enclin*d  to  treat  with  freedom  and  inti- 
 macy;  nor  who  could  entertain  my  thoughts  with 
 pleafures  more  rational  and  fublime,  if  fate  had  not 
 
 plac'd  you  at  fuch  a  painful  diftance I  fuppofe, 
 
 after  this  confeflion,  you  will  repine  at  your  ftars, 
 for  making  you  a  Lady,  inflead  of  a  gentle  fhep- 
 herdefs,and  placing  a  coronet,  rather  than  a  flowery 
 wreath  on  your  head. 
 
 Your  Ladylhip  has  oblig'd  me  by  naming  La- 
 dy—  and  Lord —  ;  tho'  you  leave  me  only  tocon- 
 jedlure  the  little  graces  and  elegancies,  that  mud 
 attend  their  fociety.  It  will  be  great  clemency  in 
 your  Ladylhip  to  write  very  foon  to 
 
 Tour^  &c. 
 
 LETTER    LXXIIL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  ^  Apr,  14.  1732. 
 
 YOUR  afflldion  touches  my  very  foul.  I  find  it 
 eafy  to  conceive  the  anguifh  you  endure  for  Lord 
 
 's  and  Lady — 's  illnefs,  at  a  time  when  your 
 
 own  diforders  require  fo  great  a  Ihare  of  patience. 
 But  as  Heaven  has  favour'd  you  with  every  cir- 
 cumftance  of  human  happinefs,  perhaps,  this  allay 
 may  be  neceffary  to  fix  your  thoughts  on  a  fuperior 
 felicity,  and  give  you  a  full  evidence  of  the  vanity 
 ®f  human  things.     Your  Ladyfhip's  fituation  in 
 
 K  3  life. 
 
134         LETTERS. 
 
 life,  efpecially  in  an  interval  of  unmolefted  profpe- 
 rity,  gives  me  as  much  anxiety,  as  if  I  faw  you 
 Handing  on  feme  dangerous  precipice  ;  and  (if  I 
 don't  myfelf  mifs  the  road  to  heaven)  it  delights 
 me  to  think  hov/  fincerely  I  fhall  congratulate  you 
 on  your  fafe  arrival  thither,  thro'  fo  many  fnares 
 and  infmuating  temptations.  I  fhall  certainly  have 
 a  peculiar  affection  for  the  celeftial  guardian  that 
 attends  you,  and  is  your  invifible  procedor  in  a 
 thoufand  unfeen  dangers. 
 
 Mrs.  • is  ftill  in  great  danger,  tho'  her 
 
 phyfician  has,  with  very  good  fuccefs,  been  in  the 
 hands  of  Heaven  hitherto  the  means  of  preventing 
 the  return  of  her  diflemper  *,  but  the  dizzinefs  and 
 v/eio;ht  fhe  feels  in  her  head  make  her  afraid  to 
 walk  in  the  ftreets,  for  fear  of  falling.  Tho'  fhe 
 has  (lill  a  great  deal  of  natural  vivacity,  a  fudden 
 death  is  a  circumftance  that  keeps  her  in  a  perpetual 
 anxiety  -,  as  fhe  apprehends  herfelf  the  next  moment 
 reeling  into  her  grave,  and  juft  ready  to  hear  her 
 eternal  fate  decided.  This  does  not  however  make 
 her  fullen  or  gloomy,  but  fills  her  mind  with  great 
 and  important  ideas  ;  and  I  muft  own,  I  never 
 found  her  converfation  more  agreeable.  I  know 
 you  will  excufe  this  long  account  of  a  perfon  fo  in- 
 confidtrable  in  this  world  ;  but  in  the  next,  I  be- 
 lieve PiiQ  will  find  a  fplendid  diftinclion. 
 
 I  RETURN  you  a  thoufind  thanks  for  the  Alini'te 
 Pbilofopher^  which  tho'  I  have  not  feen,  I  know 
 I  fliall  like  ;  your  approbation^ being  the  greateft 
 ^i4thority  with 
 
 Touvy  &c. 
 
 LET- 
 
LETTERS.  135 
 
 LETTER    LXXIV. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam ^  April  22.1732. 
 
 O  U  have  given  me  a  real  and  extenfive  fatif- 
 faftion,  by  the  *  book  you  fenc  me.  I  read 
 it  with  a  fecret  gratitude  to  the  author,  as  being  a 
 benefador  to  mankind,  in  endeavouring  to  fecure 
 their  higheft  intereft:  Nothing  can  be  writ  with 
 more  argument  and  vivacity,  nor  more  feafonably 
 in  this  jundure  of  apoftafy  from  the  Chrifiian  reli- 
 
 Y 
 
 gion. 
 
 The  follov/ing  lines  are,  I  fear,  only  a  poetical 
 flight ;  for  I  dare  not  afk  my  felf  whether  I  fhould 
 be  really  fo  difmterefted. 
 
 0  he  thy  int^rejl  fafe^  thy  caufe fecure! 
 Whatever  clouds  hang  on  7ny  future  hours, 
 
 I pafs  them  all, 'Thy  facred  will  he  done ! 
 
 1  am  of  no  importance  to  my  felf -, 
 
 I  could  refign  my  heing,  fink  again 
 
 To  my  firji  itothing^  could  thy  glory  rife. 
 
 When  I  am  hlotted  from  the  rank  of  heing. 
 
 It  is  a  fenfible  pleafure  to  me  to  hear,  that  Lord 
 and  Lady have  got  rid  of  their 
 
 coughs  \  but  it  is  a  fatisfadion  of  a  higher  nature, 
 to  find  the  Grand  Monde  has  no  charms  for  your 
 Ladyfhip. 
 
 I  HOPE  you  will  find a  retreat  as  charm- 
 ing as  Mr. . 's  defcription  has  made  Ickworth* 
 
 Park, 
 
 *  jild^hron,  or  the  Minute  Vhilofo^her* 
 
 K  4  Wbik 
 
136         LETTERS. 
 
 While  hooks  and  walks  divide  the  vacant  tme^ 
 Unconfcious  all  of  folly  or  of  crime  •, 
 While  you  each  morn  refpire  the  balmy  airy 
 And  breathe  it  out  a^ain  in  praife  and  pafr. 
 
 This  is  certainly  going  to  heaven  with  a  very  good 
 grace,  and  fhewing  what  virtue  is  in  her  native  ele- 
 gance and  beauty,  'tis  making  the  paths  of  phi- 
 iofophic  life  more  fmooth  and  delightful,  than  all 
 the  popular  ways  of  vice  and  luxury. 
 
 For  want  of  public  amufements,  I  mud  enter- 
 tain your  Ladyfhip  with  my  own  private  fatisfac- 
 tions  ;  and  communicate  the  pleafure  I  have  had 
 in  reading  the  laft  fcene  of  the  life  of  Dr.  Rivet^ 
 who  was  tutor  to  one  of  the  princes  of  the  houfe 
 of  Orange,  No  fcene  of  earthly  grandeur  (as  much 
 as  I  admire  trumpets  and  kettle-drums)  ever  excited 
 my  envy,  like  the  triumph  and  fortitude,  with 
 which  the  pious  man  met  the  univerfal  terror.  Thus 
 let  me  quit  the  Ihore,  and  launch  out  into  immortal 
 joy  !  It  will  be  more  feafonable  to  fay  my  prayers 
 another  time ;  But  you  will  pardon  this  excurfion 
 from 
 
 Tour^  &c. 
 
 LETTER.     LXXV. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam ^  May  ly,  ly^i. 
 
 YOUR  Ladyfhip  is  the  laft  perfon  on  earth  to 
 whom  I  would  put  myfelf  in  a  ridiculous  lights 
 and  yet  'tis  a  misfortune  to  which  I  am  often  re- 
 duc'd,  in  fpite  of  all  my  folicitude  to  avoid  it. 
 However  I  have  fome  excufe  for  my  obftinate  at- 
 
 uchrnent 
 
LETTERS.         137 
 
 tachment  to  obfcurlty  and  folitude,  from  your  own 
 charming  delcription  of  it.  You  have  furniih'd  my 
 imagination  with  a  glorious  fcene  of  fylvan  delights 
 
 at  . ',  but  I  am  content  with  the  range  of  two 
 
 or  three  flowery  fields  hedg'd  round  with  hawthorn, 
 that  are  near  me  j  of  which  I  peaceably  take  pof- 
 feflion  when  I  would  indulge  a  ferious  thought,  and 
 place  myfelf  in  a  fituation  fuperior  to  earthly  fears 
 or  hopes:  In  thefe  ferene  moments  your  company 
 would  be  as  agreeable  as  the  vifit  of  an  angel. 
 Whatfoever  ftupidity  you  reproach  me  with,  I  am 
 never  fo  abftrad  as  to  think  of  you  with  indiffe- 
 rence. In  my  mod  ambitious  excurfions,  when  I 
 am  got  beyond  the  period  of  all  human  things,  I 
 promife  myfelf  the  moil  refm'd  pleafure  in  a  happy 
 and  unlimited  duration  •,  when  you  will  be  im- 
 prove in  every  excellency,  and  I  incapable  of  any 
 folly  that  may  lelTen  your  efteem.  You  already 
 fpeak  the  language  of  immortality  in  what  you  fenc 
 me.  May  all  thofe  blelTings  that  infpire  your  foul 
 with  fuch  exalted  gratitude,  be  continued  to  you ! 
 
 If  you  knew  what  joy  every  letter  of  yours  gives 
 me,  you  would  not  call  it  molefling  me,  tho'  you 
 did  me  the  favour  to  fend  a  billet  by  every  v^inged 
 wanderer  that  makes  its  airy  tour  this  way.  In  a  pofl 
 or  two  I  will  return  you  my  thanks  at  large  for 
 the  obligation  of  your  lafl  letters ;  for  at  prefent  I 
 have  only  juft  time  for  the  ceremony  of  fubfcribe- 
 ing  myfelf 
 
 L  E  T 
 
138  LETTERS. 
 
 LETTER    LXXVL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam ^  Sept,  6.  1732. 
 
 I  WAS  in  hopes  every  poft  would  bring  me  a 
 letter,  but  at  laft:  my  gay  expedlations  vanifh'd 
 into  tracklefs  darknefs,  and  gave  me  inquietudes 
 of  another  nature ;  fmce  you  are  not  exempt  from 
 the  ills  of  vulgar  mortals,  and  'tis  poQible  for  your 
 head  to  ake,  tho'  diftinguifh'd  with  a  coronet : 
 However,  as  it  is  not  my  bufmefs  to  prefcribe  to 
 you,  or  confine  you  to  your  chamber,  when  you 
 are  in  perfefb  health  ;  I  will  difmifs  that  gloomy 
 reafon  for  your  filence,  and  rather  think  it  volun- 
 tary. 
 
 I  AM  fatisfy'd  you  muft  approve  of  my  delay, 
 in  not  coming  at  this  jundure,  when  the  fmall-pox 
 rages  fo  much  here.  If  my  fears  are  ever  fo  whim- 
 fical,  if  there  is  but  a  fhadow  in  them,  there  is 
 Itill  fome  merit  in  this  caution,  fmce  'tis  on  Lord 
 
 1 's  account.     You  cannot  think  me  fo  Itupid, 
 
 fo  infenfible  to  all  that  is  charming  and  elegant  in 
 life,  as  not  to  have  a  tafte  for  fuch  converfation  as 
 yours.  There  is  not  among  the  human  race  a 
 mind  fo  form'd,  — a  temper,  —  a  turn  of  thought 
 and  manner  of  exprefTion  that  pleafes  me  like  yours. 
 
 I  talk  more  to  Mrs. than  to  any  body  elfe, 
 
 becaufe  flie  admires,  and  is  capable  of  entering  into 
 the  elegancies  of  your  character.  And  yet,  after 
 all,  there  is  a  ftrange  fort  of  fatality,  that  puts  fome 
 unconquerable  obftacle  or  other  in  the  way  of  my 
 inclination  and  happinefs.  However,  I  can't  but 
 hope  for  one  fhort  interval  of  that  felicity  on  this 
 fide  the  fun  in  fome  future  happy  period. 
 
 /  a7n^  &c. 
 
 LET- 
 
LETTERS.         139 
 
 LETTER     LXXII. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Mada7h\  051  oh.  8.  1732. 
 
 T  H  AVE  been  putting  your  letters  and  papers 
 -*•  in  order.     When  I  die,  I  defign  to  leave  them 
 
 in . — 's  hands,  as  a  truft  facred  to  friendfhip 
 
 and  virtue :  Thofe  papers  and  my  pidures  being 
 the  only  things  I  find  an  inclination  to  carry  with 
 rne.  You  cannot  imagine  how  the  fettling  this, 
 and  fome  other  little  affairs  in  order,  fooths  and 
 pleafes  my  imagination.  No  perfon  ever  took  more 
 fatisfadion  in"  preparing  for  a  journey  6f  pleafure, 
 than  I  do  in  fetting  things  in  a  juft  decorum  for  that 
 laft  and  grand  removal.  But  I  am  ftill  fenfible  no 
 forecaft  can  prevent  many  natural  fears,  and  acci- 
 dental exigencies  that  may  opprefs  the  foul  in  that 
 important  acftion.  'Tis  impofTible  to  know,  till 
 the  experiment  is  try'd,  what  pains  of  body  or 
 anxiety  of  mind  may  add  horror  to  the  fatal  dark- 
 nefs.  But  fince  it  muft  be  pafs'd,  'tis  of  the  utmoll 
 confequence  to  endeavour  to  prevent  a  furprize,  by 
 growing  fimiliar  with  death  and  all  its  attendant 
 terrors.  The  gloomy  monarch  has  been  met  not 
 only  v/ith  compofure  and  decency,  but  with  a  fort 
 of  pious  infult  and  triumph  :  Of  which  a  late  in- 
 ilance  of  one  that  I  knew  dwells  on  my  memory, 
 who  in  the  bloom  of  life,  and  the  affluence  of  for- 
 tune, left  the  world  with  the  fame  graceful  eafe  that 
 an  angel,  who  had  juft  iinifh'd  his  meffagc,  would 
 fpread  his  wings,  and  return  to  his  native  fkies. 
 I  will  not  talk  of  dying  any  longer,  for  fear  you 
 Jhould  reproach  me  for  not  putting  it  in  pradice. 
 
 /  am^  &c. 
 
 LET- 
 
w 
 
 140         LETTERS. 
 
 LETTER    LXXVIII. 
 
 To  t]oe  fame. 
 
 Novemh,  11.  1732. 
 
 HEN  will  the  drudgery  of  life  he  o^er^ 
 And  we  he  landed  on  a  happier  Jhore  ? 
 
 Your  Ladyftiip's  part  of  life  has  been  too  fliort  to 
 plead  the  privilege  of  being  difmifs'd  fo  foon  ;  how- 
 ever impatient  you  feem  to  advance  in  your  race  of 
 life,  and  put  yourfelf  forward,  while  youth  and 
 nature  forbid  the  impofllble  attempt.  But,  I  be- 
 lieve, there  are  few  of  your  fair  contemporaries  will 
 find  themfelves  enclin'd  to  keep  you  company,  fo 
 that  your  expedition  will  not  be  prevented  by  a 
 crowd.  And  yet  to  bid  adieu  to  charms  of  youth, 
 and  refign  the  bloom  of  beauty  with  fuch  an  inimi- 
 table grace  as  the  verfes  in  one  of  your  Ladyfhip's 
 letters  exprefs,  is  more  to  be  envy'd  than  the  gayeft 
 parade  of  life.  However,  this  is  a  period  only  to 
 be  defir'd  by  a  virtuous  mind,  as  an  introduction 
 to  immortal  youth  and  felicity. 
 
 Come^  gentle  age !  to  me  thou  dofi  appear 
 No  cruel  ohje^i  of  regret  or  fear  ; 
 ^hy  ftealing  ftep  I  unrelu5iant  fee^ 
 Nor  would  avoids  or  wifh  to^ fly  from  thee. 
 
 The  *  books  in  vindication  of  revelation  I  have 
 read  with  a  real  pleafure,  and  will  return  them  to  you 
 with  the  firft  fafe  opportunity.  Your  Ladyfhip's 
 approbation  is  the  very  point  of  my  ambitions  and 
 
 *  Revelaticn  exetm'm'd  ix>ith  Candor,  2  Vol. 
 
 if 
 
LETTERS.         141 
 
 if  the  f  Enchanted  Foreft^  or  any  thing  of  mine 
 pleafes  a  tafte  fo  juft  as  yours,  I  am  entirely  fatisfy'd 
 with  myfelf. 
 
 I  AM  perfecflly  fenfible  of  the  obligation  I  have 
 to  you  for  your  four  laft  agreeable  letters  •,  and  if 
 I  was  in  the  Grand  Monde,  that  fcene  of  adtion,  and 
 you  was  buried  alive  in  a  cavern,  and  had  nothing 
 to  fay  but  what  occurred  in  your  own  thoughts,  I 
 Ihould  certainly  have  the  charity  to  write  twenty 
 letters  for  one.  'Tis  a  long  time  fince  I  read  a 
 news-paper,  but  I  am  juft  going  to  get  the  ac- 
 count of  the  birth-night,  that  I  may  make  fome 
 conjedlure  how  your  Ladyfhip  fpent  the  happy 
 time. 
 
 Your  Ladyfhip  is  too  much  an  infidel,  to  be- 
 lieve ftories  of  apparitions,  and  would  laugh  at  me 
 for  fuch  relations ;  but  if  I  could  have  got  a  defcri- 
 ption  of  fome  lights,  that  were  feen  in  the  sky, 
 from  fome  intelligent  mortal,  I  would  have  fent 
 it:  But  fome  tell  me  'twas  like  one  thing,  and  fome 
 another,  fo  that  I  cannot  at  prefent  tell  what  it 
 was  like :  But  'tis  a  certain  truth,  that  I  am 
 
 Tour^  &c. 
 
 LETTER     LXXIX. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam^  Jan.  i.  173-I. 
 
 YOUR  letters  are  favours  fo  free  and  unme- 
 rited, that  I  cannot  complain  of  the  inter- 
 miflion  with  any  manner  of  decency  •,  tho'  I  fuffer 
 
 f  A  tranflation  from  Tajfo^  publifh'd  in  the  third  part  of  Lit- 
 ten  Moral  and  Eatertainhg. 
 
 {9 
 
r42         LETTERS. 
 
 fo  much  by  it,  that  I  fhould  certainly  have  inter- 
 rupted your  peace,  if  1  had  known  precifely  whi- 
 ther to  dired:  for  you.  For  yours,  in  a  literal 
 fenfe,  is  the  journey  of  life,  a  pilgrimage  without 
 a  metaphor.  As  the  weather  is  now  milder,  I  hope 
 your, Ladyihip  will  be  freed  from  your  cold,  and 
 your  confinemeric  to  a  chamber>  at  your  charming 
 hermitage.  Your  Ladyfhip's  defcription  of  it,  and 
 the  park  at  Richmond^  are  beyond  the  charms  of 
 poetry.  I  fhali  never  forget  that  there  are  fuch 
 agreeable  perfons  in  being  as  Lady—-—  and  Lord 
 i«« —  j  tho'  your  Ladyfhip  feems  refolv'd  never  to 
 rnention  them.  You  will  be  pleas'd  when  I  tell 
 you,  that  inftead  of  writing  moral  efiays,  I  have 
 ^mploy'd  my  leifure,  this  winter,  in  the  harmlefs 
 amufement  of  drawing  landfcapes ;  and  fometimes 
 Jiave  dar'd  the  inclemency  of  the  sky,  by  walking 
 in  the  fields  this  frofly  weather :  The  profped  ex- 
 adlly  anfwer'd  your  comparifon  of  a  landfcape  cut 
 in  white  paper. 
 
 I  a?n,  Sec. 
 
 •♦<♦  ^«.*  f/*  ^ii*  vi^ ^l*  vv  -ii*  v<»  ^t* •*<»  4v  •■a*-  -^  -^ -ifrft -y*^ -^tt  -w  -H^  -^T^f  -^ -nf  ^^*  ♦»* 
 
 LETTER    LXXX. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam^  ^.     Jan,  24.  ly^j* 
 
 YOUR  letters  would  never  be  dull  to  me, 
 tho^  the  words  were  put  together  as  acciden- 
 tally as  Epicurus' s  atoms ;  J  am  perfwaded  even 
 then  they  would  appear  with  fome  peculiar  beauty 
 and  fpifit. 
 
 I  AM   eafily  perfwaded  your  Ladylliip  would 
 
 have  pafs'd  your  time  agreeably  in  Lady 's 
 
 converfation,  if  it  had  been  in  a  place  lefs  charm- 
 ed ing 
 
LETTERS.         143 
 
 ing  than  you  have  defcrib'd  your  hermitage.  'Tis 
 a  pleafure  to  me  to  hear  that  my  Lord  — —  has  fo 
 perfe6lly  recover'd  his  health  ;  both  as  it  regards 
 your  Ladyfhip's  happinefs,  and  is  fo  great  a  blef- 
 fing  to  the  public.     Nature  would  have  intruded 
 
 Lady .  in  the  Art  of  drawing  without  a  Matter. 
 
 It  is  a  fort  of  hereditary  qualification  in  your  fa- 
 mily. It  dejights  me  to  hear  that  Lord  -~ —  re- 
 fembles  Mr.  - —  either  in  perfon  or  temper ;  for 
 never  could  human  nature  pofTefs  more  perfedion. 
 I  have  been  reading  Mr.  Fielding's  new  comedy. 
 The  Modern  Husband  ;  and  can't  help  thinking  it  a 
 good  play,  if  nature,  wit  and  morality  can  make 
 it  fo. 
 
 Your  Lady  (hip  gives  me  a  fecret  pleafure, 
 while  you  flatter  me  with  the  thoughts  of  feeing 
 you  at  ■■  ;  and  yet  I  check  thofe  gay  expedla- 
 
 tions,  and  number  them  with  thofe  vifionary  de- 
 lights, with  which  people  pleafe  and  delude  them- 
 felves  to  the  lafl  period  of  life.  It  fuits  my  cir- 
 cumftances  better  to  refled  that  the  night  is  near; 
 
 The  fatal  night  of  deaths  when  IJhall  Jleep 
 Una5live  in  the  damp  and  gloomy  grave : 
 The  period  hajlens  on  that  puts  an  end 
 To  ev'ry  vain  defign.     My  trial  comes ^ 
 The  folemn  hour  draws  near^  that  muft  decide 
 My  everlafting  flate  -,  and  no  appeal 
 From  that  tribunal  e^er  will  he  allowed, 
 
 I  WISH  your  confinement,  and  the  hurry  of  the 
 town,  may  not  increafe  your  cold.  I  can't  help  hav- 
 ing the  greateft  concern  for  your  health  s  tho'  your 
 Ladyfhip  almoft  forbids  roe  to  wifh  you  many 
 happy  new-years.  Indeed  there  is  fo  fmall  a  fhare 
 of  happinefs  falls  to  the  lot  of  the  moil  favour'd 
 mortals,  that  I  have  fome  fcruple  of  wifhing  any 
 
 ^^----jperfon 
 
144         LETTER  S. 
 
 perfon  a  Jong  life;  unlefs  they  are  fuch,  as  I  think 
 may  juftly  defpair  of  mending  their  circumilances 
 in  the  life  to  come. 
 
 Your  Ladyfhip  has  made  Mrs happy,  by 
 
 naming  her :  We  are  both  mightily  pleas'd  with 
 an  Amazon's  head  which  I  have  drawn,  which  we 
 fancy  is  exadly  your  fide-face  ;  there  is  as  much 
 beauty  in  the  air  and  feature,  (if  my  pencil  has  not 
 fail'd  in  copying  the  original)  as  ever  fparkled  in 
 a  human  face. 
 
 /  a7n^  &c. 
 
 LETTER    LXXXI. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam^  ■^^^^  ^*  ^73'^' 
 
 YO  U  have  reafon  to  rejoice  that  my  paper  pro- 
 mifes  but  a  fhort  letter,  for  my  thoughts  are 
 at  this  inftant  in  a  very  gloomy  fituation.  I  can't 
 fiatter  myfeif  that  this  chagrin  rifes  merely  from 
 a  difmtereiled  concern  for  the  public  calamity,  un- 
 lefs my  friends  were  all  immortal  and  fecure  from 
 general  danger.  Your  Ladylhip's  lall  letter  gave 
 rhe  the  fatisfadion  to  know  that  you  are  recovering 
 from  this  fatal  diforder  j  and  I  hope  your  next  will 
 inform  m.e  that  thofe  of  your  family,  on  whom 
 your  own  welfare  depends,  are  all  paft  danger. 
 
 I  AM  fmcerely  oblig'd  to  Mrs ,  for  the  news- 
 papers, 'lis  a  pleafure  to  me  fometimes  to  know 
 the  pofture  of  human  affairs.  It  v/ould  be  giving 
 yourfeif  unneceffary  trouble,  to  doubt  whether  you 
 fhould  tranfcribe  a  thing  from  a  public  paper,  for 
 fear  of  molefting  me  with  the  agitations  of  the  bufy 
 world  i  as  long  as  the  arches  of  the  sky  are  ftand- 
 
 jrig, 
 
LETTERS.  145 
 
 ing,  and  the  pillars  of  the  earth  fix'ti,  I  am  at  reft: 
 And  I  hope,  if  they  were  broken,  I  ihould  look 
 with  ferenity  on  the  glorious  confufion,  and  wel- 
 come the  happy  period,  that  will  bring  a  brighter 
 fcene  in  view. 
 
 The  new  fever  rages  here,  and  is  very  fatal; 
 and  yet  J  can't  help  wifhing  you  in  the  country, 
 for  the  air  muft  be  lefs  contagious  here  than  in  Lon^ 
 don,  Where-ever  you  are,  may  the  peculiar  pro- 
 tedion  of  Heaven  guard  you  from  the  arrow  that 
 flies  by  day^  and  the  peftilence  that  walks  in  dark- 
 nefs.  Quoting  fcripture  would  have  a  fanatical 
 air  to  one  of  lefs  piety  ;  but  as  you  have  join'd  that 
 to  the  greateft  elegance  of  tafte,  and  the  moft  re- 
 fin'd  manners,  I  (hall  cfcape  the  ridicule  I  fhould 
 exped  from  an  inferior  character  to  your  Lady- 
 fhip's. 
 
 To  my  great  joy  I  have  juft  received  a  letter 
 from  you,  which  brings  me  the  welcome  news,  that 
 you  are  all  well.  I  have  had  a  Ihort  fit  of  the 
 fever,  to  reproach  my  ingratitude  to  Heaven,  for  a 
 feries  of  uninterrupted  eafe,  with  which  my  days 
 have  been  bleft.  However,  I  am  ftill  confin'd  to  a 
 tenement  of  clay  ;  my  fpirit  cannot  yet  get  releas'd. 
 from  its  mortal  fetters  \  I  fpeak  it  with  a  fort  of 
 confufion.     Whenever  the  welcome  period  comes, 
 
 I  fhall  enjoin  Mrs. to  let  you  know  it  5 
 
 but  I  fliall  never  intrude  on  your  folitude :  The 
 fcandal  of  what  people  call  walking  would  induce 
 me  to  keep  myfelf  invifible,  whatever  pleafure  I 
 took  in  attending  your  retirements. 
 
 Your  good  wilhes  will  add  to  my  brother's 
 happinefs  •,  and  it  will  be  no  detriment  to  yours,  if 
 I  fubfcribe  myfelf 
 
 Tour^  &:c. 
 
 Vol.  IL  I.  I.  E  T 
 
146         LETTERS. 
 
 9 
 
 LETTER    LXXXIL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam,  Mar,  26.  1733. 
 
 YO  U  have  conquered  the  difficulties  of  an  art, 
 which  will  be  a  certain  amufement  in  fome  of 
 the  moments  of  chagrin,  which  no  ftate  of  life 
 is  exempted  from.  This  thought  pleafes  me  as 
 much  as  the  charming  pidure  you  have  favoured 
 me  with,  which  has  been  the  delight  of  my  eyes 
 ever  fince  I  receiv*d  it. 
 
 May  Heaven  reftoreyou  again  to  a  ftate  of  per- 
 fe6l  health,  and  crown  your  days  with  every  cir- 
 cumftance  of  felicity.  I  hope  you  will  not  be  ne- 
 gligent of  yourfelf-,  for  a  relapfe  into  this  new 
 diforder  feems  to  be  more  dangerous  to  people  than 
 the  firft  feizure.  This  cold  weather  increafes  my 
 concern  for  you. 
 
 Such  a  charadler  as  yours  gives  me  too  great 
 an  opinio'n  of  human  nature,  to  fufFer  me  ever  to 
 prefer  folitude  for  itfelf :  and  I  am  fo  far  from  de- 
 figning  to  feclude  myfelf  from  fociety,  in  the  blifs- 
 ful  bowers,  that  'tis  a  pleafure  to  me  to  think  of 
 meeting  countlefs  numbers  of  gentle  fpirits,  as  ele- 
 gant and  refin'd  as  yours.  And  yet,  according 
 to  my  prefent  apprehenfion,  I  fhall  find  fomething 
 peculiarly  agreeable  in  your  fociety  ;  from  which 
 I  promife  myfelFa  moft  laftingand  fincere  delight, 
 when  we  meet  in  that  fplendid  concourfe,  which 
 ihall  come  from  every  tribe  and  language  on  earth, 
 to  form  the  numerous  aifembly. 
 
 If  ever  you  attempt  copying  your  own  pidure, 
 let  me  beg  to  have  it,  and  I  will  never  ask  ano- 
 ther ;  that  will  be  the  higheft  obligation  you  can 
 lay  on 
 
 Toury  &c. 
 
 LET- 
 
I 
 
 LETTERS.  147 
 
 LETTER    LXXXIIL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam,  ^pril  1733: 
 
 T  is  a  fort  of  mortification  to  me  to  believe,  that 
 I  need  make  no  apology  to  your  Ladyfhip  for 
 my  filence  ;  but  this  is  certainly  the  cafe,  and 
 it  would  be  mere  vanity  in  me  to  make  excufes,  for 
 what  you  will  rather  thank  than  reproach  me.  I 
 need  not  inform  you,  that  the  fpring  is  now  in  its 
 bloom,  that  daifies  and  cowfiips  adorn  the  verdant 
 field. 
 
 While  birds  on  branches  perch'* d,  or  on  the  wing^ 
 At  nature* s  joyful  reftoration  fing. 
 How  fweet  the  morn  I  how  gentle  is  the  night ! 
 How  calm  the  evening  I  and  the  noon  how  bright ! 
 
 The  news  of  popular  tumults  and  difcontents 
 turns  my  envy  of  fpltndor  and  fuperiority  into  fe- 
 rious  compafTion,  to  find  that  no  heights  of  merit 
 can  be  a  defence  from  public  cenfure,  and  the  in- 
 gratitude of  a  happy,  tho'  uneafy  people. 
 
 It  would  be  cruelty  to  my  felf,  to  renoxince  the 
 only  joy  I  have,  which  is  your  converfation  ;  but 
 that,  like  all  other  earthly  pleafures,  is  no  fooner 
 enjoy'd,  but  'tis  pall ;  and  'tis  no  more  than  an 
 agreeable  dream,  a  pleafing  fpeculation,  which, 
 without  the  lead  fatigue,  fancy  can  entertain  her- 
 
 felf  with You  will  think  I  have  reafon'd  all 
 
 human  things  into  mere  fhadows. 
 
 'Tis  but  expanding  thought,  and  life  is  nothing. 
 
 Ages  and  generations  pafs  away. 
 
 And  with  refiftlefs  force,  like  waves  o'er  waves, 
 
 L  2       -  .      Roll 
 
148         LETTERS. 
 
 Roll  down  th*  irrevocable  ftream  of  tme^ 
 Into  eternity* s  unbounded  depths.- 
 
 Your  Lady  (hip  has  highly  obh'g'd  me  by  the 
 expedlation  of  another  pidure  of  your  drawing.     I 
 
 have  promis'd  Mrs. that  of  Cornelia  when  I 
 
 die ;  with  which  fhe  feems  fo  overjoy'd,  that  I'm 
 afraid  Ihe  will  wifh  the  time  fhorten'd.  However, 
 it  will  not  be  long. 
 
 ^0  thee^  O  deaths  my  fleeting  moments  tend : 
 In  thee  the  hurricane  of  life  muft  end, 
 Tho*  murmuring  waters  from  the  ocean  crowds 
 Prom  thee  by  nature  no  return* s  allowed. 
 For  tho*  the  feas  have  leave  to  ebb  and  flow ^ 
 The  ft  reams  of  life  muft  always  forward  go. 
 
 A  THOUSAND  blefllngs  attend  you!  be  the  ce- 
 leftlal  fpirits  your  protedion  in  every  known  or  un- 
 feen  danger ! 
 
 /  am,  &c. 
 
 LETTER    LXXXIV. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam,  ^May  ^.   1733. 
 
 X^OUR  Ladyfhip's  defcription  of  the  hermi- 
 -*•  tage  entertains  my  fancy  with  the  moft  en- 
 chanting profped  on  earth.  It  I  did  not  exped  a 
 more  pleafurable  fituation  after  a  few  (hort  months 
 or  hours  are  pafl,  I  fnould  envy  you  the  happinefs 
 of  your  charming  retreat  ;  which  might  be,  and 
 certainly  is,  a  haunt  for  .angels,  when  you  are 
 there. 
 
 Th^- 
 
LETTERS.         149 
 
 ^he  guard  of  providence  is  fure  about  yoUy 
 .And  you  were  horn  to  biefs  an  impious  age. 
 
 It  gives  me  a  fincere  pleafure  to  hear  Lady— — 
 is  got  into  your  Ladyfhip's  way  of  thinking*,  with 
 that  advantage,  how  fparkling  will  her  charader 
 be  !  while  the  fpirit  and  gracetulnefs  of  her  bloom- 
 ing years  fee  off  every  virtue.  Be  it  eafy,  or  fe- 
 vere,  it  muft  attract  love  and  imitation,  and  llrike 
 the  fenfes  as  well  as  the  foul ;  the  heavenly  flame 
 will  mingle  with  the  luftre  of  her  eyes,  and  the 
 beneficent  difpofition  make  itfeif  vifible  by  a  thou- 
 fand  namelefs  graces. 
 
 'Tis  the  effedl  of  a  perfe6l  humanity,  that  your 
 JLadyfhip  will  give  me  leave  to  flatter  myfelf, 
 •that  my  filence  is  not  a  thing  wholly  indifferent 
 to  you  :  If  it  was,  it  will  always  be  an  adl  of  cha- 
 rity in  you  to  conceal  it  *,  for  the  value  I  fet  on 
 your  good  opinion  will  perhaps  be  the  laft  attach- 
 ment, fr^m  which  my  mind  will  be  difengag'd 
 in  this  world. 
 
 Whenever  I  think  of  feeing  your  Ladyfliip 
 once  more,  the  firft  thought  fets  a  fcene  of  plea- 
 fure in  my  view  ;  but  it  is  foon  damp'd,  when  I 
 confider  what  a  venerable  figure  people  make  at 
 my  time  of  life  among  perfons  of  your  gayer  years 
 
 and  temper.     My  good  Lady ^,  and  Mrs. , 
 
 with  feveral  others  of  my  grave  contemporaries,  rife 
 in  a  vifionary  farce  before  me ;  and  by  their  reve- 
 rend examples  confirm  my  refolution  of  concealing 
 the  concluding  follies  of  life  in  a  decent  retirement. 
 Nothing  appears  more  difmal  to  me,  than  being 
 a  dead  weight,  a  fort  of  folemn  incumbrance  to 
 fociety.  This  is,  perhaps,  being  too  nice,  and 
 refining  beyond  what  a  Hate  of  mortality  will  per- 
 mit. 
 
 In  mere  compaffion  to  your  Ladyfliip  I  leave 
 off,  and  fubfcribe  2''om\  &c. 
 
 L  3  L  E  T- 
 
150         LETTER  S.      . 
 
 LETTER     LXXXV. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam^  June  2.  1733. 
 
 YO  U  have  made  me  very  happy  with  another 
 picture  of  your  drawing,  which  I  have  but 
 jufl:  receiv'd.  I  am  glad  you  don't  take  a  fancy 
 to  old  hermits  and  philofophers ;  your  devotees  ' 
 are  young  and  handfome,  and  pleafe  with  Coypel^s 
 airs,  who  I  confefs  is  my  prefenc  favorite  painter ; 
 nor  do  I  wonder  that  his  defigns  are  entertaining  to 
 Lady- — -'s  elegant  tafte  and  genius. 
 
 Nothing  can  be  fo  fparkling  to  my  imagina- 
 tion as  your  hermitage.  You  have  brought  back 
 the  fylvan  fcenes  to  their  primitive  grandeur,  and 
 a  farm-houfe  appears  as  polite  as  a  palace.  Inftead 
 of  an  air  of  low  life,  your  cows  and  fheep  give  it 
 the  appearance  of  the  patriarchal  wealth  and  plenty  ; 
 and  Lady—  ,  I  prefume,  guards  her  fleecy  charge, 
 in  as  genteel  a  habit,  as  any  poetical  (hepherdefs 
 that  ever  grac'd  the  ftage. 
 
 I  WISH  you  may  like  the*  Dialogue  on  Devotion'^ 
 for  your  approbation  would  be  more  to  the  young 
 author,  than  that  of  half  the  univerfe  befides. 
 
 I  am^  Sec. 
 *  Printed  for  R.  Hett,  in  the Joultrey,  1733. 
 
 LET- 
 
LETTERS.         151 
 
 LETTER     LXXXVL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Mad  am  ^ 
 
 IT  would  be  mere  vanity  in  me  to  make  an  apo- 
 logy for  leaving  you  lo  foon  ;  without  any  af- 
 tedation  or  giving  mylelf  airs  of  modefty,  I  fm- 
 cerely  think  my  abfence  never  requires  an  excufe: 
 However,  if  your  Lady  (hip  knew  what  inquietude 
 and  regret  1  felt,  when  I  difobey*d  you,  it  would 
 atone  for  my  obftinacy.  I  cannot  exprefs  the  re- 
 morfe  it  gave  me:   Not  that  I  repent  my  journey 
 
 to ;  for  it  has  certainly  furnifh'd  me  with 
 
 fome  agreeable  images  both  of  beauty  and  virtue, 
 which  perhaps  are  not  to  be  found  in  any  other 
 place,  or  at  leafb  not  fo  fuited  to  my  tafte. 
 
 I  SHOULD  have  begun  m»y  Japan  table  as  foon 
 as  I  came  home,  if  Les  Penfees  de  Pafcal  had  not 
 accidentally  come  in  my  way,  and  given  my 
 thoughts  a  fituation  fuperior  to  all  earthly  things. 
 In  reading  thit  book  I  lofe  every  care,  and  grow 
 independent  on  all  below  the  fkies :  The  trifling 
 hopes  and  fears  of  human  life  vanifli  before  a  more 
 important  interell,  while  1  yield  to  the  evidence 
 of  chefe  juft  reflections ; 
 
 IL  ne  faut  pas  avoir  I'^ame  fort  elevee^  pour  com- 
 prendre  qu*il  n^y  a  point  icy  de  fatisfaolion  veritable 
 &'  folide^  que  tous  ?ios  plaijirs  ne  font  que  vanite^  que 
 nos  inaux  font  infini^  ^  qu'enjin  la  mort^  qui  nos  me^ 
 nace  a  chaque  injlant^  nous  doit  mettre  en  pen  d^annees 
 dans  iin  etat  eternel  de  bonheur  on  malheur,  Uimmor- 
 talite  de  l^ame  eft  une  chofe  qui  nous  importe  fi  fort^  ^5* 
 qui  nous  touche  fi  piofondement,  qu^il  faut  avoir  perdu 
 tout  fentiment^  pour  etre  dans  l^ indifference  de  fg avoir 
 ce  qui  en  eft,  Toutes  nos  penjees  ^  toutes  nos  anions 
 \  L  4  doivent 
 
152         LETTERS. 
 
 doivent  prendre  des  routes  fi  differentes,  felon  qii*il  y 
 aura  des  hiens  eternel  a  efperer  ou  non^  qiC'il  eft  tin- 
 fojfihle  de  faire  une  demarche^  qu'*en  le  reglant  par 
 la  veue  de  ce  pointy  qui  dolt  etre  notre  dernier  objet, 
 
 I  AM,  by  a  thoufand  unmerited  obligations, 
 
 Toury  &c. 
 
 LETTER     LXXXVII. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam^ 
 
 IT  will  do  you  no  real  harm  for  me  to  begin  at 
 the  top  of  the  paper,  tho'  my  head  is  at  pre- 
 fent  fomething  vacant,  and  I  find  my felf  at  a  much 
 greater  lofs  what  to  fay,  than  'tis  poflible  your 
 Ladyfhip  can  be,  after  having  faid  fo  many  fine 
 things  on  every  agreeable  fubje^ft  in  nature.  It 
 would  be  more  juft  in  you  to  complain  for  want 
 of  new  worlds,  and  fome  unfeen  novelties,  than 
 for  want  of  invention.  When  the  celeflial  arch, 
 xkz  groves  and  flowery  lawns,  have  been  defcrib'd, 
 mortal  eloquence  is  exhaufted.  Indeed  the  follies 
 of  mankind  would  afford  a  wide  and  various  fcene  ; 
 but  charity  would  draw  a  veil  of  darknefs  there, 
 and  chufe  to  be  for  ever  filent,  rather  than  expa- 
 tiate on  that  melancholy  theme. 
 
 1am  taking  a  great  deal  of  pains  to  convince 
 your  Ladyfhip  that  it  is  not  for  want  of  wit,  but 
 variety,  that  my  invention  is  cramp'd  ;  the  nar- 
 row creation  is  my  complaint.  In  a  more  modeft 
 difpofition,  I  may  be  content  with  the  limits  of 
 rhe  univerfe,  and  think  the  world  wide  enough  ; 
 feut  at  prefent  it  feems  as  diminutive  as  the  painted 
 
 globe 
 
LETTERS.  153 
 
 globe  in  Queen  Elizabeth*^  hand,  or  the  foap-bub- 
 
 bles  my  Lord blows  into   the   air.     The 
 
 poetic  boafls 
 
 Of  thoughts  which  tjpander  thro*  Infinity, 
 And  foar  above  the  Jkies, 
 
 yield  but  little  confolation.  After  all  their  ethereal 
 excurfions,  we  have  got  but  very  dark  intelligence 
 from  the  invifible  world  ;  and  are  fo  far  from  find- 
 ing our  ideas  enlarg'd,  that  we  are  forc'd  to  degrade 
 the  brighteft  order  of  angels  into  human  figures. 
 Perhaps  your  Ladylhip's  fparkling  imagination 
 does  not  drefs  them  up  in  broad-cloth  and  beaver 
 hats  ;  but  even  velvet  coats,  and  diamond  buttons, 
 would  make  but  a  tawdry  figure  above  the  ftars. 
 However,  there  is  no  remedy  for  thefe  inconfii^en- 
 cies,  till  the  curtain  falls,  and  difcovers  the  glories 
 ^X  immortality  in  their  native  fplendor. 
 
 One  would  imagine,  when  the  univerfe  makes 
 fuch  a  defpicable  figure  in  my  view,  that  even  flars 
 and  garters,  crowns  and  fceptres  feem  transform'd 
 into  toys;  one  would  think,  in  fuch  a  fuperior  fitu- 
 ation,  I  fhould  have  no  attachment  left  for  a  Japan 
 ftreen  ;  but,  I  muft  own,  I  long  to  fee  it. 
 
 I  AM  afraid  your  Ladyfhip  will  allow  me  but 
 little  of  your  attention,  till  after  the  birth-day  ; 
 however,  I  hope  you  will  give  Mrs. —  -  leave 
 to  let  me  know  you  are  well,  which  will  be  the 
 greateft  fatisfadion  to 
 
 .  Tour^  &c. 
 
 LET- 
 
154         L  E  T  T  E  R  S. 
 
 LETTER     LXXXVIIL 
 
 To  the  Jame. 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 
 TTOUR  Ladyfhip  would  not  thank  me,  I  am 
 ■^  perfuaded,  if  I  wifh'd  you  a  thoufand  happy 
 new  years  in  this  world,  crown'd  with  youth  and 
 conftant  tranquility  ,  but  when  I  wifh  you  an  im- 
 mortality of  happinefs  in  the  next,  Heaven  can 
 witnefs  the  finceriry  of  my  foul. 
 
 I  FANCY  the  Prince  of  Orange^  flory  would 
 make  a  very  beautiful  novel,  if  the  fcene  was  laid 
 in  fome  of  the  fragrant  eafbern  ifles,  blell:  with 
 perpetual  fpring.  A  great  many  fine  characters 
 might  be  introduc'd  under  poetical  names.  The 
 fpirit  and  open  temper  of  the  Prince  of  PFales^  with 
 his  generous  concern  for  the  illuftrious  ftranger, 
 would  make  a  very  fhining  figure.  I  have  a  great 
 inclination  in  fome  ambitious  moments  to  attempt 
 it  in  imitation  of  Telemachus^  and  addrefs  it  to 
 Lord . 
 
 The  following  verfes  are  the  eflfay  of  a  very 
 young  mufe,  Mr.  Rowers,  nephew,  that  your  La- 
 dy fliip  has  feen  at  Hampjiead,  who  has  a  promifing 
 genius  for  his  early   years. 
 
 On  the  Nuptials  of  the  Prince  and  Princess 
 ^/OR,ANGE. 
 
 ByMr,^,  MUNCKLEY. 
 
 THlR'Dwith  the  fame  oi  Brunfwic\  royal  race, 
 
 Adorn'd  with  ev'ry  virtue,  ev'ry  grace  ; 
 
 Young  Orange  long  afpir'd  to  be  ally'd. 
 
 Where  only  he  could  Qnd  an  equal  bride. 
 
 Should 
 
LETTERS.         155 
 
 Should  haughty  France^  or  Aufiria^  to  his  arms 
 Proffer  in  all  the  prime  of  youthful  charms 
 A  blooming  princefs,  bled  with  ev'ry  grace. 
 Pride  of  the  Bourbon^  or  Cajarean  race : 
 (And  well  might  haughty  France^  or  Auftria  own 
 Their  monarch  honour'd  by  fo  great  a  fon) 
 Vain  were  the  offer  ;  Orange  ne'er  would  join 
 A  tyrant's  race,  with  William's  patriot  line: 
 Their  race  whofe  impious  arms  mankind  enflave. 
 With  his  whofe  godlike  glory  was  to  fave. 
 
 Immortal  H^ilUaml  thy  victorious  hand 
 From  the  proud  Gaul  refcu'd  thy  native  land  ; 
 Nor  to  one  nation  were  thy  arms  confin'd. 
 Thou  hero  fent  by  heav'n  to  fave  mankind! 
 Albion  oppreft  low  proftrate  begs  relief. 
 Her  flowing  tears  perfuade  the  pitying  chief; 
 He  faw  the  queen  of  nations  wretched  doom, 
 Giv'n  up  a  prey  to  tyranny  and  Rome. 
 Hell  with  new  rage  its  miniflers  infpires. 
 They  whet  their  axes,  and  prepare  their  fires ; 
 Already  they  believe  the  conqueft  gain'd. 
 And  in  their  greedy  hopes  devour  the  land : 
 Vain  expedation!  let  a  Naffau  come. 
 Where  is  the  confidence  of  hell  and  Rome? 
 He  comes,  and  bids  the  refcu'd  nation  fmile, 
 And  liberty  returns  to  blefs  the  ifle. 
 Triumphing  hofts  fpread  their  great  leader's  fame, 
 And  lawlefs  tyrants  tremble  at  his  name. 
 Namur^  thy  walls,  and,  Boyne^  thy  rapid  flood, 
 Choak'd  with  flain  legions,  and  defil'd  with  blood, 
 
 Confefs 
 
356         LETTERS. 
 
 Confefs  him  great  in  arms ;  his  trembh'ng  foes 
 Trenches,  or  mounds,  or  tow'rs,  in  vain  oppofe ; 
 In  vain  the  baftion  guards  the  hoftile  wall, 
 And  ramparts  mock  a  foe — he  comes— they  fali. 
 
 From  his  illuftrious  line  young  Orange  came^ 
 Alike  in  virtue  as  alike  in  name. 
 For  blooming  Aivte  the  youthful  hero  figh'd, 
 Tli€  only  lover  worthy  fuch  a  bride : 
 He  fues,  Britanma's  monarch  heard  his  pray'r. 
 And  to  his  wi flies  gave  the  royal  fair. 
 The  joyful  hero  waits  for  fav'ring  gales. 
 Sudden  they  rife,  and  fill  the  fwelling  fails. 
 The  prince  exulting  leaves  the  Belgk  fhore. 
 Nor  the  winds  threaten,  nor  the  billows  roar: 
 His  guardian'  Genius  bids  the  tempefts  fleep. 
 And  fmooths  the  furface  of  the  briny  deep. 
 Lav'd  by  the  hoary  furge  white  cliffs  from  far. 
 To  glad  the  lover's  longing  eyes  appear ; 
 ,  Swift  glides  the  veflel  to  the  crowded  ftrand. 
 And  gives  the  promis'd  hero  to  the  land. 
 To  proud  y^uguji a* s  tow'rs  with  eager  halte, 
 The  deitin'd  fcene  of  ail  his  joys,  he  pafs'd. 
 Unheeded  fhout  her  fons,  unheeded  rife 
 Her  domes  and  glitt'ring  fpires,  that  wound  the 
 
 fkies  *, 
 His  ardent  pafiion  claim'd  hrs  total  care. 
 And  all  his  thoughts  were  on  the  royal  fair. 
 Lo,  flie  appears  to  bhfs  his  longing  fight ! 
 The  fair  appears  in  native  beauty  bright. 
 Not  fairer  feem'd  the  fabled  Queen  of  love, 
 Defcending  from  the  fkies  to  Ida^s  grove : 
 
 Loft 
 
LETTERS.  T  c;7 
 
 LoH  in  furprize,  the  Trojan  boy  beheld 
 Ccleflial  beauties  to  his  fight  reveal'd. 
 Receive  the  prize,  O  Paphtan  Queen  !  he  cry'd. 
 To  Pallas  and  the  wife  of  Jove  deny'd : 
 In  vain  my  choice  thy  rival's  charms  would  move. 
 Lovely  are  they,  but  thou  the  Queen  of  love. 
 With  like  furprize  the  Belgic  prince  furvey'd 
 The  blooming  beauties  of  each  royal  maid. 
 Such  lovely  nymphs  he  ne'er  before  had  feen. 
 The  faired  daughters  of  the  faireft  Queen  : 
 But  chiefly  ^nna*s  charms  the  hero  move, 
 Raptur'd  he  gaz'd,  and  loft  himfelf  in  love. 
 Beautv  ineffable  adorn'd  her  face, 
 And  fpoke  her  of  the  lovely  Brunfwic  race. 
 Her  native  majefty  each  look  expreft. 
 And  all  the  princefs  ev'ry  ftep  confeft  : 
 *Midft  her  attendant  train  fo  Dido  mov*d  > 
 The  fon  of  l^^enus  f^w,  admir'd,  and  lov'd. 
 Nor  lefs  her  mind  th'illuftrious  lover  fir\i» 
 PofTeft  of  all  that  makes  her  fex  defir'd  j 
 Much  he  admir'd  her  form,  her  virtues  rnore^ 
 They  fix'd  the  conqueft  beauty  gaia*d  before. 
 
 But  an  amazing  ftroke  his  joy  reflrains : 
 Thus  the  fevere  decree  of  Heav'n  ordains! 
 A  fudden  heat  fhoots  thro'  his  glowing  blood. 
 And  noxious  ardor  taints  the  vital  flood. 
 Celeftial  pow'rs,  ye  guardians  of  the  brave. 
 Your  mighty  charge  from  threat'ning  danger  favc  i 
 Kind  Heav'n  afi^ents,  nor  longer  will  delay 
 The  blifs  oi  Albion y  and  th'  aufpicious  day  » 
 
 I  lie 
 
158         LETTERS. 
 
 The  day  indulgent  fate  ordains  fhall  join 
 The  race  of  Najfau^  with  the  Brunfw'ic  line. 
 
 The  happy  ifle  exults ,  with  gen'ral  voice 
 Her  fhouting  fons  applaud  their  monarch's  choice. 
 Enjoy  their  prefent  biifs,  and  hence  prefage 
 That  blifs  continu'd  thro'  each  future  age. 
 They  fee  new  heroes  hence  derive  their  birth, 
 And  other  Naffaus  glad  th'expedting  earth  : 
 And  fhould  offending  heav'n  again  ordain 
 To  threat  the  nations  with  the  Gallic  chain  ; 
 From  this  illuftrious  line  they  hope  redrefs. 
 And  a  new  William  to  redeem  and  blefs. 
 
 LETTER     LXXXIX. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam,  ^734- 
 
 IT  gives  me  a  very  fenfible  concern  to  hear  you 
 are  in  the  leafl;  danger  of  relapling  into  that 
 diforder,  that  you  was  in  at  the  Balh.  'Tis  per- 
 haps impoffible  to  reach  an  abfolute  independance 
 and  fuperiority  of  mind  to  hunian  events ;  and  yet 
 I  often  fancy  myfelf  in  a  ftate  of  infenfibility  to 
 every  thing,  but  what  concerns  your  happinefs; 
 and  that  is  an  attachment  which  will  furvive  the 
 period  of  mortal  life, 
 
 Mr. has  generally  a  han^lfome  manner  of 
 
 addrefs,  which  makes  me  impatient  to  fee  a  De- 
 dication where  the  choice  is  fo  entirely  juft.  Your 
 Ladyfhip's  charader  fets  human  nature  in  its  mod 
 agreeabl'::  light,  and  is  an  inilance  what  perfection 
 
 ic 
 
LETTERS.  159 
 
 it  can  reach  *,  nor  can  there  be  any  partiality  in 
 giving  you  a  diftindion  which  you  certainly  merit. 
 
 I  WISH  your  Lady  (hip  would  be  fo  good  as  to 
 fend  me  one  of  your  own  and  Lady 's  draw- 
 ings in  Indian- ink  :  I  have  a  great  curiofity  to  fee 
 what  progrefs  you  make.     My  great  attainment 
 
 at  prefent  is  colouring  prints,     li  Lady wants 
 
 any  birds  for  her  new  Japan^  I  have  fome  at  her 
 fervice.  Mrs. — —  is  fo  enchanted  with  this  new- 
 japanning,  that  Ihe  has  abandon'd  Mr.  Baxter  ^ndi 
 the  Greek  Fathers,  and  employs  her  time  in  flick- 
 ing bears  and  monkies  on  all  the  wooden  furniture 
 ihe  can  find  about  the  houfe.  I  am  in  happier 
 circumftances ;  for  the  fcreen  your  Ladyfhip  fenc 
 me  is  a  Raree-fnow  for  all  the  w^omen  and  children 
 about  town,  who  have  any  thing  of  a  nice  and  ele- 
 gant tafte. 
 
 The  charming  cottage  your  Ladyfhip  has  de- 
 fer ib'd,  appears  before  me  in  all  its  vifionary 
 beauty.  I  fliould  certainly  envy  the  inhabitants 
 of  fuch  a  charming  retreat,  if  I  could  not  indulge 
 my  imagination  with  the  hopes  of  fairer  manfions 
 in  fome  future  world.  But  however  ambitious  I 
 am  of  fetting  my  feet  on  the  Harry  pavement,  I 
 am  yet  forc'd  to  content  myfelf  with  walks  of  grafs^ 
 or  (not  to  conceal  the  mortifying  truthj  (fones  and 
 dirt.  This  is  fome  difadvantage  to  me,  who  have 
 renounc'd  all  local  motion  except  walking. 
 
 I  SHALL  be  in  a  painful  fufpence,    till  I  hear 
 that  your  Ladyfhip  is  recover'd  from  this  diforderi 
 ■which  will  be  a  fincere  pleafure  to 
 
 Toury  &c. 
 
 L  E  T- 
 
i6o         LETTERS. 
 LETTER    XC. 
 
 T^o  the  fame* 
 
 Madam^ 
 *r~T"^  I  S  impoflible  to  read  Lord— ^ ^s  verfo^ 
 
 JL  without  being  delighted  with  the  view  of 
 of  what  fuch  a  capacity  promifes  to  the  public : 
 They  are,  without  flattery,  furprizing  for  one  of 
 his  years. 
 
 Your  Lady  (hip  would  get  no  advantage  by 
 rolling  back  time ;  not  even  to  your  fine  perfon, 
 which  has  not  yet  loft  a  charm,  while  your  mind 
 has  improved  in  every  thing  that  is  graceful  and 
 elegant  in  human  nature.  Twenty  years  would  be 
 a  large  ftep  backward  in  your  life,  unlefs  you  arc 
 got  into  the  Egyptian  chronology,  and  reckon  your 
 years  by  the  moon.  But  after  all  my  criticifms, 
 I  am  charm'd  with  your  Ladyfhip's  lentiments,  as 
 they  exprefs  a  noble  ambition  to  reach  the  heights 
 of  virtue. 
 
 If  I  fhould  have  an  averfion  to  fuch  a  place  as 
 
 ,  I  muft  be  infenfiblc  to  all  that  is  agreeable 
 
 in  art  or  nature;  nor  can  I  fuffer  your  Ladylhip 
 ^  to  have  fuch  an  unjuft  opinion  of  mc.  If  there 
 is  a  fpot  on  earth  to  which  my  imagination  is  fixM 
 and  enchanted,  *tis  there.  I  haunt  the  grove, 
 afcend  the  mount,  trace  the  rivulets,  and  wander 
 thro'  every  verdant  w^alk.  'Tis  true,  in  my  foji- 
 tary  caprices,  I  take  full  polTefilon  of  the  houfe  and 
 gardens,  and  baniili  every  intelligent  being  from 
 the  place,  except  your  Ladyfhip  and  the  angels; 
 with  whom  I  may  own,  without  breach  of  modefty, 
 I  am  fo  good  as  never  to  be  out  of  humour.  You 
 will  think  I  am  very  gracious  not  to  exclude  cele- 
 ftial  beings  from  my  retirement  *,  in  which  I  am 
 happy  enough,  while  I  can  make  a  virtue  of  ne- 
 
 ceflity. 
 
LETTERS.         i6i 
 
 cefTicy,  and  credit  the  moralifts,  who  tell  us,  that 
 all  human  pleafures  are  better  in  fpeculation  than 
 in  reality.  For  twenty  miles  to  me  are  twenty 
 thoufand  •,  and  I  could  as  well  think  of  a  pilgri- 
 mage to  the  Holy-land^  or  of  taking  a  journey  to 
 the  moon  with  Ganza's,  But  I  hope  fome  favour- 
 able event  or  other  will  bring  your  Ladyfhip  to 
 
 • ;  and  then  you  cannot  avoid  this  road, 
 
 when  I  may  be  fo  happy  as  to  fee  you  en  pajjant. 
 
 There  is  a  fort  of  infallibility  in  your  judg- 
 ment of  books ;  I  never  queflion  the  merit  of  an 
 author  which  your  Ladyfliip  recommends,  and  will 
 get  Rollings  hiftory  by  the  firfl  opportunity. ,  Your 
 Ladyfhip's  mentioning  Mr.  Hallyhurton's  life,  when 
 I  was  with  you  laft,  made  me  read  over  the  account 
 of  his  death,  in  which  there  are  fome  aukward  par- 
 ticulars, and  little  domeftic  matters,  that  are  very 
 difgufting  ;  but  abflrad:  from  this,  fuch  an  exit 
 would  have  made  a  glorious  figure  in  a  language 
 anfwerable  to  the  dignity  of  his  fentiments ;  and 
 thro'  all  the  cant  and  difguife  of  a  Scotch  dialedb, 
 the  faint  and  the  hero  dill  appear.  I  was  charm'd 
 to  find  him  bleffing  the  hour  of  his  birth,  and  tri- 
 umphing that  ever  he  had  commenc'd  an  immortal 
 being,  at  a  time  when  the  guilty  part  of  man- 
 kind are  wilhing  they  had  never  been  born,  and 
 loading  the  inaufpicibus  hour  with  execration,  and 
 would  link  back  into  their  primitive  nothing. 
 
 /  am^  &c. 
 
 Vol.  II.  M  LET- 
 
i62         L  E  T  T  E  R  S, 
 
 LETTER    XCL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam^  July  6,  1734. 
 
 YO  U  would  have  been  molefted  with  my  im- 
 pertinence before  this,  if  Lady 's  com- 
 mands had  not  employ'd  me  in  drawing ;  which  I 
 am  afraid  was  more  to  flatter  my  vanity,  than  to 
 pleafe  her  own  inclination  ;  but  that  ftill  heightens 
 the  favour.  I  have  copy'd  the  Paftoral  Mufe  from 
 a  print  Lady  Scudmnore  fcnt  me:  The  figure  is  ne- 
 gligently lolling  on  the  grafs,  in  a  romantic  fcene, 
 with  cafcades,  and  fwans,  and  little  birds  on  the 
 branches  of  trees.  I  will  fend  it  as  foon  as  I  have 
 an  opportunity:  The  only  compliment  I  defire  in 
 return,  is,  fomething  of  Lady  --^ — ^'s  drawing. 
 
 I  AM  pleas'd  to  find  your  Ladylhip  has  had  one 
 interval  of  what  you  call  real  folitude.  I  fhould 
 have  been  fo  oerverfe  as  to  have  call'd  it  a  crowd, 
 if  your  obliging  wifhes  to  have  me  with  you  could 
 have  taken  effedt.  Wh'^re-ever  you  are,  I  fhall 
 frequently  vifit  you  in  my  imagination-,  and  thofe 
 fort  of  intellectual  compliments,  your  Ladyfhip  may 
 be  aflfur'd,  will  always  be  fincere,  and  never  incom- 
 mode your  mod  important  moments  ;  nor  will  thefe 
 airy  rambles  be  attended  with  anxiety  or  fatigue. 
 
 Nothing  in  Dr.  PFatt^h  Juvenile  Mifcellanies 
 gives  me  more  pleafure  than  the  defcription  of  the 
 temple  of  the  fun,  v/hich  is  really  fine.  Nor  is  it 
 polTible  to  read  the  nankfiil  Philofopher^  without 
 the  warmeft  emotions  of  gratitude  to  Heaven,  for 
 a  thoufand  difhinguifhing  favours,  efpecially  that  of 
 jiving  in  one  of  the  moft  happy  and  glorious  pe- 
 riods, that  ever  the  Englijh  nation  enjoy'd  j  as  I 
 can't  help  thinking  the  prelent  is,  fince  I  read  Ra- 
 'pn  \  which  has  often  excited  my  gratitude,  that  I 
 
 wa« 
 
LETTERS.         163 
 
 was  not  fated  to  breathe  in  the  days  of  King  Eg- 
 bert or  Kins;  Sueno, 
 
 I  HAVE  had  a  thoufand  panics  for  fear  you 
 would  not  let  me  keep  the  fcreen  •,  for  it  is  fo 
 pretty,  and  you  had  taken  fo  much  pains  about  it, 
 that  I  had  not  the  affurance  to  exped  or  defire  it ; 
 but  if  yoQ  don't  make  me  fend  it  back  again,  it 
 will  be  a  furprizing  obligation.  It  is  a  public  be- 
 nefit to  this  town,  and  the  joy  and  wonder  of  all 
 that  fet  their  eyes  upon  it. 
 
 I  SUPPOSE  a  horfe  with  four  legs  is  by  this  time 
 too  flow  an  animal  for  Lord- — ,  and  he  would 
 be  glad  to  have  a  horfe  with  wings  like  Pegafus. 
 I  am  really  in  pain  when  I  recal  with  what  fpeed 
 he  us'd  to  meafure  the  plains. 
 
 /  a?n^  Sec, 
 
 '^'^KSXKta^o^e, 
 
 LETTER    XCIL 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 M^dam^  Aug,  2.  1734. 
 
 COULD  any  circumftance  in  the  world  raifc 
 my  envy,  it  would  be  the  happinefs  which 
 
 Mrs.  enjoys  in  your  Ladylhip's  converfacion 
 
 and  friendfliip  *,  but  inftead  of  exciting  an  uneafy 
 thought,  it  gives  mc  the  highefl:  fatisfaclion,  to 
 find  you  jufl  to  fo  much  real  merit.  Your  Lady- 
 fhip  may  juftly  reproach  me,  for  not  enjoying  a 
 fociety  in  which  I  confefs  there  are  fo  many  charms. 
 Mine  is  indeed  a  fantaflic  fituation  of  mind  ;  there 
 is  fomething  of  mechanifm  in  my  reafoning  faculty, 
 as  well  as  in  my  devotion  ;  which  feems  to  depend 
 on  juft  fuch  a  place,  and  fuch  a  fet  of  objects.  In- 
 deed I  cannot  boalt  of  any  great  Ihare  of  fenfe  or 
 
 M  2  good- 
 
i64         LETTERS. 
 
 goodnefs,  but  I  feem  entirely  deftitute  of  both,  out 
 of  my  own  chamber.  My  happinefs  is  a  fort  of 
 Quietifm*,  there  is  fomething  in  your  way  of  life 
 too  glaring  and  tumultuous  for  the  natural  fedate- 
 nefs  of  my  temper.  If  Mrs. ,  inftead  of  draw- 
 ing the  pidlure,  could  poffibly  be  transform*d  into 
 a  real  St.  Genevieve  -,  and  would  fit  under  a  tree, 
 with  a  good  book  in  her  lap,  watching  her  fheep 
 in  a  very  flowery  pafture  that  I  could  find  for  her, 
 I  fhould  vifit  her  at  the  rifing  morning  and  filenc 
 evening.     Nor  fhould  I  have  the  leaft  objection  to 
 
 the  being  at ,  if  your  Ladyfhip  could  be 
 
 metamorphos'd  into  a  plain  good  woman,  without 
 
 any  attendants  but  Mrs. and funk 
 
 into  Lucy  and  Colin,  I  dare  not  carry  the  tranf- 
 formation  to  fuch  a  prodigious  extent,  as  to  turn 
 my  Lord into  a  reverend  divine,  tho'  with  re- 
 gard to  the  next  world  perhaps  it  would  be  no 
 difadvantage  to  his  Lordfhip.  Nor  have  I  the  leaft 
 inclination  to  make  any  alteration  in -the  houfe  or 
 gardens,  which,  I  confefs  have  a  nearer  refem- 
 blance  to  my  plans  of  paradife,  than  any  other 
 profped  which  comes  within  my  view ;  unlefs  what 
 
 Mr. 's  drawing  gives  me,  which  is  done  with 
 
 exquifite  skill,  and  came  fafe  to  me. 
 
 My  imagination  could  be  no  manner  of  help  in 
 the  contrivance  of  your  grotto  ;  nor  can  an  inven- 
 tion fo  fparkling  as  yours  want  ailiftance,  which 
 appears  by  the  beauty  of  your  defcription. 
 
 You  will  be  fo  obliging  ^s  to  make  a  compli- 
 ment to  Lord and  Lady from 
 
 Tour^  &c. 
 
 LET- 
 
LETTERS.         165 
 
 LETTER     XCIII. 
 
 T*o  the  fame. 
 
 Mad  1  my 
 Wl  H I  L  E  you  meet  with  fo  many  inflances  of 
 V  V  the  vanity  of  earthly  grandeur,  I  need  not 
 be  very  lavilh  of  my  morals  on  that  fubjedt ;  and 
 yet  when  I  am  in  the  humour  of  dictating,  I  can- 
 not help  faying  what  you  know  very  well,  without 
 the  addition  of  my  teftimony  to  this  melancholy 
 truth,  that  even  the  revenues  of  a  kingdom  cannot 
 procure  an  exemption  from  the  pains  of  ficknefs, 
 or  the  menaces  of  death,  nor  purch.ife  one  mo- 
 ment's eafe  for  the  moft  diftinguifliM  of  mortals. 
 There  is  no  relief  in  that  gloomy  hour,  but 
 
 Tha^  glorious  folace  of  immenfe  dtftrefs^ 
 
 A  confcience^  and  a  God-,  a  friend  within  y 
 
 Arid  better  friend  on  high. 
 
 His  eye -lids  fend 
 
 Beams  of  immortal  youth  thro'heav^Jt^s  bright  regiom. 
 
 His  all-powerful  word  can  health  create. 
 
 And  bid  the  blejfing  come  amidft  the  wintry  frofl, 
 
 ^  I  HOPE  Lord— —  is  by  this  time  recover'd  from 
 his  feverifh  diforder.  1  can't  but  fhare  with  your 
 Ladyfhip  in  the  concern  you  feel  for  him,  with  re- 
 gard to  the  fmall-pox.  May  Heaven  prote6l  the 
 little  angel  from  that  peftilential  diftemper.    If  any 
 
 thing  can  foften  Lord 's  tortures,  it  muft  be 
 
 your  Ladyfliip's  attendance.  You  are  the  balm  and 
 joy  of  life  to  all  about  you ;  every  gloomy  event 
 gives  a  luftre  to  your  charader,  and  brings  the  be- 
 nignity of  your  temper  into  a6lion.  And  amidll 
 all  the  changes  of  human  affairs,  a  virtuous  mind 
 will  feel  a  fecret  complacence  in  believing 
 
 M  3  <]:hi 
 
i66         LETTERS. 
 
 ^he  coiirfe  of  human  things  is  all  decreedy 
 With  each  ininutefi  circumftancey  above : 
 No  fickle  chance^  no  blind  contingencies ^ 
 No  unforefeen  events  arife  to  crojs 
 ^he  purpofes  divine, 
 
 I  HAVE  always  the  brighteil  expedacions  from 
 an  author  that  your  Ladyfliip  recommends,  nor 
 have  I  been  difappointed  in  Rollings  hiftory  \  the 
 two  firft  volumes  of  which  I  have  been  reading  with 
 a  true  rational  delight.  His  remarks  on  the  con- 
 dudl  of  divine  providence  are  a  proof  to  me  of  the 
 author's  piety,  and  thro*  every  page  the  delicacy 
 and  juftice  oi  his  fentiments  appear.  Lady  -— 's 
 retreat  puts  one  v^ife  thing  in  my  head,  that  there 
 is  no  happinefs  but  in  innocence  and  obfcurity.— 
 But  to  your  great  comfort  my  morality  is  abridg'd 
 for  want  of  room. 
 
 /  am^  &c. 
 
 LETTER    XCIV. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  y 
 
 YOU  will  pardon  me,  I  am  fure,  for  prefum" 
 ing  to  think  a  perfon  in  your  ftation  and  al' 
 titude  an  object  of  compaiTion  ;  but  you  are  really 
 fo,  even  by  your  o^vn  confeffion :  Nor  could  your 
 Ladyfhip  have  nam'd  one  circumftance  of  mifery 
 greater  than  that  of  being  confin'd  to  a  crowd  of 
 people,  who  are  all  of  them  in  a  ftate  of  hoflility 
 and  ill-humour  with  one  another  *,  or  at  lead  not 
 fo  peaceably  difpos'd,  as  your  Ladyfliip's  fedate 
 and  gentle  difpofition  would  wifh  them.   But  while 
 
 I  pity. 
 
LETTERS.         167 
 
 I  pity,  and  am  ready  to  pray  for  you,  it  diverts 
 me  to  find  you  only  a  Jittle  diicompos'd,  in  a  fitu- 
 ation  that  would  bereave  me  of  my  fenfesj^and 
 drive  me  quite  out  of  my  wics. 
 
 I   AM    glad   your  Ladyfhip   is    difgufted  with 
 
 —• ;  the  whole  feems  to  be  writ  with  a  malice 
 
 more  than  human,  and  has  furely  fomething  infer- 
 nal in  it.  'Tis  furprizing  that  a  man  can  diveft 
 himfelf  of  the  tender  fenciments  of  nature  fo  far, 
 as  deliberately  to  give  anguilh  and  confufion  to 
 beings  of  his  own  kind.  Slander  and  .invedive 
 do  an  injury  never  to  be  repaired,  and  confequently 
 are  unpardonable  fins. 
 
 I  SHALL  eafily  difpenfe  with  your  drawing  for 
 
 me,  when  it  puts  you  to  the  lead  pain.     Mr. - 
 
 outfhines  us  all.  I  have  hung  his  drawing  in  an 
 eminent  place,  in  my  parlour,  and  no  body  that 
 comes  there  thinks  it  worth  their  while  to  look  ac 
 any  other  performance,  till  they  have  admir'd  this. 
 I  own  myfelf  indebted  to  him  for  it.  I  have  juft 
 receiv'd  a  prefent  of  the  feafons  by  IVatteau ;  the 
 fcenes  are  fine,  and  the  faces  very  handfome;  and 
 I  (hould  be  glad  enough  to  hear  \}At  mufic,  but 
 averfe  to  being  one  of  the  company.  I  mufl:  tell 
 you  all  the  fecrets  of  my  heart,  whether  they  are 
 guilty  or  innocent. 
 
 It  gives  me  the  mod  abftrad  and  refin'd  plea- 
 fure,  to  hear  your  Ladyfhip's  character  and  fine 
 genius  admir'd.  You  are  my  vanity  and  pride^ 
 nor  is  it  poffible  for  you  to  be  more  delighted  to 
 
 find  the  public  doing  juflice  to  Lady 's  charms 
 
 and  merit,  than  I  find  in  the  juftice  done  to  yours,. 
 I  am  often  pleas'd  with  an  opportunity  of  applying 
 thefe  lines  of  Dr.  Young  to  your  Ladyfhip's  cha- 
 rader: 
 
 Sheftrlkes  each  point  with  native  force  of  mind^ 
 While  puzzled  learning  blunders  far  behind. 
 
 M  4  Graceful 
 
i68         LETTER  S. 
 
 Graceful  to  fight^  and  elegant  to  thought^ 
 'The  great  are  vanqiitjh^d^  and  the  wife  are  taught. 
 Her  breeding  finifh^d^  and  her  temper  fweet ; 
 Whenferious^  eafy,  and  when  gay ^  difcreet\ 
 In  glltfring  fcenes  o'er  her  own  heart  fever e^ 
 In  crowds  colle^ed^  and  in  courts  fincere, 
 
 Mr.  Duncomhe  fent  me  his  propofals  for  printing 
 Mr.  Hughes'' s>  works.  I  am  glad  he  finds  encou- 
 ragement, for  he  is  really  an  author  of  genius  and 
 ftricl:  morals.  I  hope  you  will  not  make  fuch  a  long 
 paufe  as  your  lait,  before  you  write  to 
 
 Tour^  &c. 
 
 LETTER    XCV. 
 
 "To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 "VT  O  U  cannot  communicate  your  joys  to  any 
 -^  perfon  that  more  fincerely  iliares  in  your  La^ 
 dyfhip's  happinefs  than  I  do.  While  your  amufe- 
 ments  are  fo  reafonable  and  innocent,  you  need 
 not  fcruple  making  confeffions  of  yourfelf  to  a  much 
 feverer  temper  than  mine  is  *,  and  if  you  tell  me  the 
 word  of  yourfelf,  as  I  believe  you'do,youarecertainly 
 very  good.  Not  that  this  awkward  common  com- 
 pliment of  telling  people  they  are  very  good,  does 
 reach  your  Ladylhip's  character,  or  at  all  exprefs 
 my  meaning  :  But  I  muft  content  myfelf  with  hu- 
 man language,  for  I  cannot  yet  fpealc  in  the  ftrains 
 of  immortality  *,  tho'  I  wifh  for  that  privilege  with 
 more  impatience  than  I  ought. 
 
 0  longo  efilio  I  0  troppo  Isnta  morte ! 
 
 The 
 
LETTERS.         169 
 
 The  vifionary  pleafure  that  your  defcription  of 
 a  country  fcene  gives  me,  perhaps  exceeds  what  I 
 Ihould  find  in  the  reality  •,  and  fetting  afide  the 
 beauties  that  your  fparkling  imagination  and  fine 
 language  give  to  every  thing  that  you  are  pleas'd 
 with,  trees  are  trees,  and  dailies  are  daifies  at  FromE^ 
 as  well  as  at  the  hermitage.     And  even  your  La- 
 dyfhip's  nice  talle  would   be  delighted  with  fome 
 verdant  enclofures,  which  are  my  conilant  haunt, 
 and  where  I  am  fure  of  enjoying  an  unmolefted  fo- 
 litude.     However,  I  am  not  going  to  perfwade 
 you  to  enclofe  Windfor  Foreft^  and  banifh  every 
 human  appearance  from  it ;  for  the  fociety  you  are 
 bleft  with  has  every  thing  in  it  agreeable  And  charm- 
 ing.    I  am  not  furpriz'd  that  with  your  juft  and 
 elegant  turn  of  thought,  you  fhould  prefer  that  in- 
 nocent wit  and  unaffeded  chearfulnefs,  that  you 
 find  in  your  own  family,  to  all  the  noify  mirth  of 
 public  entertainments.  I  was  pleas'd  with  a  thought 
 I  lately  read  in  a  modern  author,  who  fays,  (fpeak- 
 ing  of  folitude)  ^Tis  even  delightful  to  think  there  is 
 a  world  of  fpirits,  and  that  we  are  furrounded  with 
 intelligent  beings^  thd*  invifible,  rather  than  in  a  lonely 
 unconfcious  univerfe^  a  wildernefs  of  infenfible  matter, 
 
 I  HAVE  read  your  two  lail  lectersover  and  over  ; 
 they  infufe  a  fecret  gladnefs  into  my  foul.  The 
 peace  and  ferenity  of  your  temper  appear  in  every 
 line.  I  hear  the  nightingale's  fong,  and  all  the  gay 
 landfcape,  the  flowery  fcene,  which  gives  you  fuch 
 a  chearfulnefs,  rifes  in  full  bloom  before  me, 
 
 I'll  leave  you  now  to  trace  the  fun,  and  vifit 
 the  planetary  worlds  ;  while  I,  confin'd  to  this 
 earthly  globe,  remain 
 
 Tour^  Sec, 
 
 L  E  T- 
 
lyo         LETTERS. 
 
 LETTER    XCVL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 
 I  HAVE  at  lafl  had  the  fatisfa<5i:Ion  of  reading 
 Madam  de  La?nhert's  Avis  afon  Fils  &afa  Fille, 
 Such  a  juft  train  of  reafoning,  and  thofe  noble  re- 
 flexions would  have  given  me  a  fincere  pleafure, 
 if  I  had  not  been  byafs'd  by  your  Ladyfhip's  good 
 opinion  of  the  author ;  but  as  I  was,  the  fatisfadion 
 was  more  complete.  Whatever  has  the  fandion  of 
 your  applaufe,  I  admire  without  referve  or  diffi- 
 dence. I  grow  pofitive  and  infallible,  and  with- 
 out being  popifhly  inclined  in  any  other  point,  I 
 yield  an  implicit  aflent  to  all  your  determinations. 
 The  following  fentence  pleafes  me,  becaufe  it  is 
 exa6lly  your  Ladyfhip's  manner  of  thinking  •,  and 
 that  is  the  greateft  compliment  I  can  make  the  au- 
 thor. Le  bonheur  eft  dans  le  paix  de  l*ame  j  voin 
 ne  pourrez  jouir  des  plaifirs  de  Vefprit^  fans  la  /ante 
 de  I'^efprit,  'Tout  eft  prefque  plaiftr  pour  un  efprit  fain. 
 And  I  am  particularly  charm'd  with  this  thought : 
 La  plus  grande  marque  qu*on  eft  ne  avec  des  grandes 
 qualilez,  eft  de  vivre  fans  envie.  This  is  the  con- 
 ftant  happy  fituation  of  a  mind  form'd  like  your 
 Ladyfhip's.  Heaven  continue  that  facred  peace, 
 which  is  the  refult  of  unaffedled  virtue. 
 
 Jam^Sic. 
 
 L  E  T- 
 
LETTERS.         171 
 
 LETTER     XCVII. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  y 
 
 YOU  can  fay  nothing  more  to  Lord 's 
 advantage,  than  that  he  refcmbles  your  own 
 charming  fifter  in  her  temper  and  virtues.  I  can'c 
 help  wondering  that  with  your  Ladyfhip's  fpar- 
 kling  imagination,  you  will  take  the  pains  to  fee 
 
 ,  or  any  other  fine  place,  when  you  may 
 
 fit  ftill,  and  exercife  your  own  invention,  without 
 any  manner  of  fatigue,  or  the  tumult  of  a  Lady 
 of  quality's  equipage  and  attendance.  For  tho' 
 your  motions  may  not  be  quite  fo  unwieldy  as  the 
 Rhodian  ColofTus,  and  you  may  ftir  without  many 
 a  cart,  yet  not,  as  Cowley  fays,  without  many  a 
 mule  ;  and  that  muft  be  a  Itrange  encumbrance 
 to  the  fimplicity  of  all  rural  entertainments  and 
 fylvan  pleafures.  You  find  I  have  loft  my  attach- 
 ment to  grandeur  and  pageantry,  and  am  going  to 
 perfuade  you  to  difmifs  your  coachman,  and  kll 
 your  horfcs,  and  to  ramble  thro'  the  wild  woods  on 
 your  own  legs,  in  order  to  exercife  the  felf-moving 
 principle,  with  which  nature  has  endowed  you  ;  or 
 elfe  to  fit  ftill  in  your  own  apartment,  and  raife 
 palaces  and  plant  groves  at  your  leifure. 
 
 Why  will  you  force  me  to  recal  thofe  happy 
 hours  which  I  pafs'd  with  you  at—  ?  That  peace- 
 ful period  never  returns  on  my  racmofy  without 
 fome  fecrct  regret  that  'tis  paft. 
 
 But  there  are  f oft  R\y^\m  fiades^ 
 
 And  lowers  of  fweet  repofe  \ 
 
 Where  never  any  form  invadeSy 
 
 Or  iempcft  ever  hlows» 
 
 This 
 
172         LETTERS. 
 
 This  profpecfl  fcatters  every  human  care,  and 
 fpreads  a  divine  tranquility  on  my  foul.  The  mo- 
 ments are  wing'd,  I  find,  by  the  flight  often  years^ 
 that  are  paft  fince  I  was  at . 
 
 Give  me  leave   to  make   my  compliments  to 
 
 Lady ,  and  to  fubfcribe  myfelf 
 
 Xour^  &c. 
 
 LETTER     XCVIH. 
 
 T*o  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  y 
 
 nnULLIA  is  certainly  a  fine  novel,  and  appears 
 -*•  to  be  the  produdion  of  a  ?int  genius.  Never 
 was  the  grandeur  and  beauty  of  your  own  mind 
 more  elegantly  expred,  than  in  the  character  of 
 Tullia  *,  which  while  I  am  admiring,  it  heightens 
 the  pleafure,  to  know  that  fuch  perfedion  and 
 virtue  is  more  than  an  agreeable  fidion. 
 
 Nothing  makes  me  more  repine  at  the  encum- 
 brance of  a  mortal  body,  than  that  it  confines  me 
 from  the  moft  agreeable  place  and  converfation  on 
 earth.  I  have  now  an  averfion  to  all  ways  of  tra- 
 velling -,  a  chair  is  my  terror,  and  even  a  coach 
 and  fix  is  quite  out  of  my  good  graces.  I  am 
 reconcil'd  to  nothing  but  walking ,  and  would 
 fooner  begin  a  pilgrimage  to  fee  your  Ladyfhip, 
 than  a  devout  Papill  to  vifit  our  Lady  oi  Loretto, 
 But  it  will  not  be  long  before  I  fhall  drop  thefe 
 earthly  fetters,  and  commence  a  ftate  of  greater 
 agility  •,  and  then,  tho'  I  have  no  intention  to  haunt 
 you  as  a  ghoft,  I  fiiall  certainly  make  you  fome 
 friendly,  tho'  invifible,  vifits,  and  wait  to  make  my 
 compliments  at  your  firit  entrance  on  the  celeftial 
 
 coafts. 
 
^     L  E  T  t  E  R  S.         173 
 
 coafts.     Till  that  happy  period,  I  am,  with  the 
 greateft  fincerity, 
 
 Tour^  &c. 
 
 LETTER    XCIX. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 D 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 0  thofe  who  on  a  rack  for  heaven  expire^ 
 hove  angels  and  eternal  brightnefs  there  ? 
 *Tis  fure  they  do! 
 
 as  Lee  fays ;  and  'tis  full  as  fure  that  my  mind  is 
 never  in  a  ftate  of  indifference  with  regard  to  your 
 Ladylhip.  I  am  not  yet  arriv'd  to  fuch  an  height 
 of  mortification  to  the  pleafures  of  human  life,  as 
 to  make  a  refolution  of  feeing  you  no  more.  That 
 would  be  refigning  the  world  at  once,  and  I  am  fo 
 far  from  that  ftoical  indifference,  that  1  ofcen  footh 
 myfelf  with  the  thoughts  of  converfing  with  you 
 in  fome  happy  diftant  period.  But  no  prophetic 
 impulfe  yet  difcovers  when,  or  where,  or  how ; 
 when  I  would  fix,  the  vifionary  joy  diffolves  in 
 tracklefs  air,  and  is  loft  in  the  uncertainty  of  all 
 future  events. 
 
 Your  Ladyfliip  will  make  me  turn  critic  in 
 fpight  of  reafon  and  nature.  The  eafy  tranfition 
 of  thought  and  graceful  language  of  the  tranflation 
 are  inimitable  ;  but  confidering  TnUia  was  defign'd 
 by  Mada?ne  de  hamhert  for  a  perfefl  charadler,  I 
 think,  fhe  indulges  a  tender  paffion  for  Lentulus  a 
 little  too  far.  However,  that  guilt  is  excus'd  by 
 the  heroic  virtue  that  appears  in  her  retreat  •,  and 
 nothing  can  be  more  charming  and  natural  than  the 
 
 effea 
 
174         LETTERS. 
 
 cffe(5l  of  her  retirement,  when  it  finks  a  tender 
 palTion  into  a  generous  and  innocent  friendfhip ; 
 and  it  delights  the  reader  to  find  twoperfonsof  the 
 greateft  merit  happy  without  a  crime.  I  might 
 remark  a  thoufand  other  beauties,  but  at  prefent  it 
 will  be  convenient  to  conclude  my  annotations.  If 
 you  don't  write  to  me  fometimes  in  this  month,  I 
 am  afraid  I  mud  refign  you  in  the  next  to  the  Prin- 
 cefs  o[  Saxe-Gotba^  and  royal  weddings,  and  birth- 
 days •,  which  without  any  great  degree  of  humility, 
 I  may  own  are  things  of  more  importance  than 
 
 Toury  &c. 
 
 LETTER     C. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 BE  mine,  ye  powers,  the  faculty  of  writing 
 fparkling  nonfenfe  !  for  then  I  find  I  could 
 compofe  the  mod  delightful  letters.— —Indeed  I 
 know  not  well  what  to  fay,  for  my  genius  owes  all 
 its  vivacity  to  your  letters  •,  and  at  prefent  my  own 
 guilt  will  not  lufrer  me  to  complain  of  your  Lady- 
 fhip's  fiJence.  However  I  have  done  violence  to 
 my  own  inclination,  out  of  regard  to  your  tran- 
 quility, which  1  thought  was  but  too  often  mo- 
 jelled  by  the  hurry  of  the  Grand  Monde ;  but  now 
 you  have  a  fort  of  vacancy,  1  beg  you  to  v>'rice  in 
 a  few  pods,  fince  the  hearing  from  you  is  the  only 
 thing  that  I  can  call  a  reafonable  pleafure,  that  re- 
 lates to  this  world.  The  pleafures  of  the  imagina- 
 tion are  of  an  inferior  clafs,  and  thofe  I  have  had 
 in  finifhing  the   fcreen  •,  for  which  I  had  pictures 
 
 enough. 
 
LETTERS.         175 
 
 enough,  and  fome   left,    which  I  have  given  to 
 
 Mrs. to  make  her  a  corner-cupboard,  to  her 
 
 great  joy  and  content.  I  am  not  furpriz'd  to  find 
 your  Ladyfhip  diverting  yourfelf  with  the  fcenes 
 of  low  life  in  the  print  you  are  copying,  while 
 fields  and  cottages  feem  to  be  the  abodes  of  inno- 
 cence and  peace.  I  mull:  own  that  fcenes  of  gran- 
 deur and  art  pleafe  me  better ;  but  then  'tis  only 
 in  fpeculation  and  at  a  diflance:  for  without  pre- 
 tending to  be  more  philofophical  than  I  really  am, 
 I  fnould  chufe  to  be  confin'd  to  the  peaceful  fhade 
 of  fome  remote  wildernefs,  rather  than  to  the  hurry 
 of  the  mofl  fplendid  court.,  I  am  glad  to  hear 
 that  Mr. has  his  relidence  ftill  among  mor- 
 tals, tho'  I  wifh  myfelf  in  a  fuperior  flation  ;  but 
 while  I  am  in  this,  with  the  greateft  fmcerity, 
 
 /  am^  &c. 
 
 LETTER     CI. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam^ 
 
 SINCE  your  Ladyfhip  will  give  me  leave  to 
 flatter  myfelf  that  you  writ  to  me  from  inclina- 
 tion, and  not  to  fill  up  the  vacancy  of  an  amufement, 
 I  (hall  willingly  affent  to  fuch  an  agreeable  truth, 
 without  railing  any  modefl  objedions  on  the  occa- 
 fi  on. 
 
 1am  delighted  with  all  your  entertainments,  ex- 
 cept the  Tent-ftitch  ;  and  that  I  own  I  admire,  but 
 then  'tis  as  fome  people  admire  virtue,  only  in  fpe- 
 culation. It  feems  to  me  an  ante-dilavian  inven- 
 tion, a  tafk  for  thofe  long-breath*d  people,   who 
 
 fpent 
 
176         LETTERS. 
 
 fpent  a  fort  of  eternity  on  earth,  compar'd  to  the 
 fhort  duration  of  a  modern  period.  However,  I  am 
 in  no  pain  for  your  Ladyfhip  *,  whether  your  at- 
 tempt is  a  chair  or  a  ftool,  I  fuppofe  it  will  be  an 
 hereditary  occupation ;  if  you  finifli  the  branch  of 
 
 a  tree,  and  Lady- a  fhepherd's  crook,  the 
 
 fervice  of  your  generation  is  done,  and  you  may 
 contentedly  leave  the  reft  to  be  finifh'd  by  your 
 children's  children. 
 
 'Tis  a  thoufand  to  one,  but  you  have  feen  thefe 
 lines  of  my  Lord  Orrery's^  but  for  fear  you  Ihould 
 not,  I  will  give  myfelf  the  pleafure  of  tranfcribing 
 them. 
 
 To  Mr.  Pop  e. 
 
 Jntornh^d  with  Kings  thd*  Ga  y'j  cold  ajhes  lie^ 
 A  nobler  monument  thy  ftrains  fupply  ; 
 ^by  matchlefs  mufe  Jlill  faithful  to  thy  friend^ 
 By  courts  unaw^d^  his  virtues  dares  commend. 
 Lamented  Gay  !  forget  thy  treatment p aft ^ 
 Look  down  J  and  fee  thy  merit  crowned  at  loft  : 
 A  deftiny  more  glorious  who  can  hope  ? 
 In  life  belov^d^  in  death  bemoaned  by  Pope. 
 
 The  lalt  part  of  your  Ladyfhip's  letter  fooths 
 the  mind  into  a  pleafing  indifference  to  all  human 
 events  :  Profperity  and  adverfity  lofe  their  diftinc- 
 tion,  and  are  only  preferable,  as  the  allotment  of 
 heaven  orders  them. 
 
 By  the  partiality  of  fome  of  my  acquaintance, 
 the  poem  of  Jofeph  has  been  fo  often  tranfcrib'd, 
 and  is  got  into  fo  many  hands,  that  I  have  been 
 at  laft  flatter'd  or  teiz'd  into  a  confent  to  let  it  be 
 publifh'd,  on  condition  the  author  is  never  known 
 or  nam'd.  As  for  fuccefs,  I  have  no  manner  of 
 vanity  or  concern  :  I  am  as  proud  of  adjufting  a 
 
 tulip 
 
 <?> 
 
LETTERS.         177 
 
 tulip  or  a  butterfly  in  a  right  pofition  on  a  fcreen, 
 as  of  writing  heroics* 
 
 I  am^  &c, 
 
 LETTER    CII. 
 
 To  the  fame^ 
 
 Mad  am  ^ 
 
 HIS  will  perhaps  moleft  yOUr  Lady  (hip  in  a 
 moment  of  importance,  and  amidft  the  hurry 
 of  the  preparation  for  a  birth-night ;  but  I  am  in 
 pain  till  you  know  I  am  entirely  ignorant  of  *  Cz^r/'s 
 romance  of  my  life  and  writings  •,  only  what  I  have 
 feen  in  an  advertifement.  1  was  told  of  his  defign 
 indeed,  and  wrote,  and  pofitively  deny'd  him  the 
 liberty  of  printing  any  thing  of  mine ;  but  they 
 tell  me  he  is  a  mere  favage,  and  has  no  regard  to 
 truth  and  humanity  ;  and  as  he  has  treated  people 
 of  greater  confequence  in  the  fame  manner,  I  am 
 advis'd  to  fuffer  no  friend  to  take  the  leaft  notice 
 of  his  colledlon  •,  and  for  my  own  peace,  if  ever 
 it  comes  in  my  way,  I  never  intend  to  fee  what  is 
 in  It.  I  have  often  fecur'd  my  happinefs,  by  go- 
 verning my  curiofity  ♦,  and  I  am  fure  of  doing  it  in 
 this  cafe,  becaufe  \  am  fo  perfe(flly  indifferent  to 
 the  trifles  1  have  writ,  and  have  at  prefent  no  man- 
 ner of  ambition,  but 
 
 ♦  This  performance  is  worthy  of  its  author  i  for  it  contarns 
 nothing  but  the  names  of  feme  of  Mrs.  Ro-we*s  works;  and  aa 
 account  chat  fhe  was  married,  and  buried  her  husband  and  father, 
 with  wrong  dates  to  each  of  thefc  events.  So  that,  Ukc  the 
 reft  of  Curl's  biographical  writings,  it  only  informs  the  public, 
 that  he  was  entirely  ignorant  of  every  thing  relating  to  the  per- 
 ibxi  whole  cnemoirs  he  attempted  to  compofe. 
 
 Vol,  II.  N  J* 
 
178         LETTERS. 
 
 In  rural  Jhades  exe77ipt  from  care  and  ftrifcy 
 'To  lead  a  calm^  fecure^  inglorious  life, 
 
 I  CAN  look  on  the  various  events  of  human 
 things  with  indifference,  as  I  know  I  fhall  very 
 foon  quit  the  changing  fcenes  of  mortality,  and 
 enter  on  a  more  lafting  and  important  (late. 
 
 I  AM  charm'd  with  Mr.  Papers  poem  on  death, 
 in  the  laft  edition  of  his  works.  I  wilh  I  may  be 
 in  the  happy  difpofition  to  repeat  thefe  lines  at  thac 
 final  period : 
 
 The  world  recedes^  it  difappears ; 
 Heaven  opens  on  my  eyes^  my  ears 
 
 With  founds  feraphic  ring  : 
 Lend^  tend  your  wings !  I  mount y  I  fy  y 
 O  grave  !  where  is  thy  viElory  ? 
 
 O  death  !  where  is  thy  Jiijtg  ? 
 
 I  SUPPOSE  your  Ladyfhip  will  not  infift  on  my 
 
 giving  up  the  ghoft  immediately. Indeed  this 
 
 IS  not  a  fubjedl:  for  raillery,  nor  for  fuperftitious 
 icrror  •,  tho',  perhaps,  this  laft  is  the  heft  extreme. 
 
 I  HAVE  been  reading  over  Mr.  Thcmfo^t^sSeafons 
 with  a  new  and  truly  rational  delight.  One  would 
 think  you  had  fat  for  the  pidure  of  the  fpring.  The 
 refemblance  I  found  induc'd  me  to  copy  it ;  for 
 drawing  is  the  cooftant  amufement  of  my  leifure, 
 time. 
 
 /  am^  &c. 
 
 LET. 
 
L  E  T  T  E  R  S.         179 
 
 LETTER    CIIL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  y 
 
 ^T'  OU  have  had  the  prime  of  my  thoughts,  and 
 JL  I  find  to  my  coft,  that  human  intelleds  are 
 extremely  confin'd  ;  ^tis  but  the  fame  fet  of  images 
 return,  however  various  the  expreflion.  This  is  no 
 reafon  j  indeed,  that  all  the  world  fhould  turn  mutes^ 
 for  fear  of  fpeaking  the  fame  words  to  day,  that 
 they  faid  yeiterday  ;  nor  can  it  give  you  any  pre- 
 tence to  be  filent,  while  a  thoufand  novelties  that 
 rife  from  the  changing  humours  and  pafilons  of 
 mankind,  fupply  you  with  new  refledions.  But  for 
 me,  who  know  nothing  befides  what  palTes  in  my 
 folitary  thoughts,  or  the  different  fcenes  in  which 
 the  mute  creation  appears,  1  may  be  well  excus'd 
 from  endeavouring  to  entertain  a  perfon  who  knows 
 all  that  pafles  in  the  polite  world. 
 
 You  will  certainly  give  me  leave  to  be  dull  for 
 the  future,  without  fuch  a  tedious  apology  ;  efpe- 
 cially  when  I  have  nature  and  neceflity  to  plead  in 
 my  excufe.  However,  I  do  not  defcend  to  trifling 
 and  impertinence  with  my  own  approbation,  any 
 more  than  with  yours ;  but  fometimes  'tis  to  avoid 
 the  other  extreme  of  appearing  too  wife  or  too 
 good,  which  is  a  fort  of  oftentation  I  would  care- 
 fully fhun  :  And  yet  this  perhaps  is  a  criminal  mo- 
 defty.  One  would  not  think  it  poiTible  to  be  over- 
 folicitous  in  providing  for  an  eternal  intereft,  or  that 
 preparing  for  a  death-bed  was  a  matter  of  lefs  fo- 
 lemnity  than  drelTing  for  a  ball.  A  perfon  that 
 can  weep  at  a  tragedy,  need  not  be  offended  at 
 another,  for  dropping  a  filent  tear  in  the  warmth 
 of  devotion  j  nor  for  liftening  to  a  fermon  with  as 
 great  attention  as  a  lover  of  mufic  v/ould  mind  an 
 opera*  N  2  However, 
 
i8o         LETTERS. 
 
 However,  I  have  no  manner  of  occafion  on 
 my  own  account  to  make  an  apology  for  being 
 either  too  wife  or  too  good  ;  if  you  never  find  caufe 
 to  reproach  me  for  the  oppofite  extreme,  it  will  be 
 a  great  happinefs  for 
 
 Tour^  &c. 
 
 ^-    r*-.   ^^^^^r^^^^    t^Ii^t^    ^^    ^    r^   <*.    c^    ^    ^   f.   ^ 
 
 LETTER    CIV. 
 
 'Ih  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 
 T  F  you  knew  the  fentiments  of  my  heart,  you 
 .4  would  find  110  reafon  to  complain.  You  engage 
 more  of  my  attention  than  any  other  earthly  thing  *, 
 and  if  it  was  ponible,  I  would  think  of  you  with 
 more  indifference.  But  I  have  not  attained  fuch  a 
 degree  of  philofophy  as  you  imagine,  nor  ever  hope 
 ro  reach  fuch  a  height  of  mortification,  as  it  would 
 require  to  break  a  friend fhip  with  one  of  the  moil 
 generous  and  agreeable  perfons  on  earth. 
 
 It  flatters  my  pride,  that  you  have  put  me  on 
 making  an  apology  for  my  filence  •,  which  I  always 
 thought  a  great  relief  to  you,  tho'  not  to  myfelf. 
 It  was  my  own  happinefs  that  I  purfu'd  in  wri- 
 ting to  you,  without  once  prefuming  it  could  con- 
 tribute to  yours  \  but  nothing  will  humble  my 
 vanity,  after  the  obliging  reproaches  you  have  made 
 on  this  occafion. 
 
 *Tis  making  myfelf  a  greater  compliment  than 
 I  can  make  you,  when  I  confefs  that  you  have  re- 
 fin'd  my  tafte  into  a  fort  of  difguftfor  every  body's 
 converfation,  but  your  own  \  and  I  am  fo  careful 
 to  keep  your  good  opinion,  as  if  my  whole  flock 
 of  reputation  depended  on  your  cenlure  or  appro- 
 bation* 
 
LETTERS.         i8i 
 
 bation.  However,  I  mud  own  this  attachment  is 
 not  voluntary ;  I  am  unwilling  you  ihould  have 
 this  afcendant  over  my  thoughts,  and  would,  if 
 pofTible,  be  difengag'd  from  every  thing  below  the 
 liars:  But  there  is  a  lore  Oi  fatality  in  your  merit, 
 that  will  always  compel  the  admiration  of 
 
 21:?ur^  &c. 
 
 LETTER     CV. 
 
 To  thefmne. 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 
 IW  I  S  H  your  happinefs,  as  I  wifli  the  welfare 
 of  my  own  foul  *,  and  yet  I  find  a  fecret  plea- 
 fure  in  your  uneafinefs.  I  am  glad  you  are  dif- 
 contented,  and  that  you  have  not  made  this  world 
 your  refting-place,  but  are  in  purfuit  of  joys  more 
 iafling  and  refin'd.  I  fliould  be  forry  to  find  you 
 among  the  ferene  and  thoughtlefs  mortals,  that  are 
 content  with  a  repetition  of  the  fame  vanities  from' 
 January  to  December^  without  the  leaft  variety,  or 
 ever  forming  a  wifli  for  more  reafonable  and  exalted 
 delights. 
 
 Jam  forcing  the  characler  of  a  faint  on  your 
 Ladyfhip  in  fpight  of  your  heart;  for  I  verily  be- 
 lieve you  had  not  a  thought  of  acquiring  that  dig- 
 nity by  any  thing  in  your  letter  :  But  I  hope  and 
 believe,  you  will  be  found  in  that  glorious  clafs» 
 when  all  other  diflin6lions  of  grandeur  are  for  ever 
 canceird. 
 
 I  AM  charm'd  with  your  beautiful  defcriptlon  of 
 
 I^dy, 's  grotto  •,    which  has  given  me  all  the 
 
 pleafure  the  view  of  it  could  afford,  without  the 
 
 N  3  fatigue 
 
i82         LETTERS. 
 
 fatigue  of  going  thither  to  fee  it.  Thefe  intellec- 
 tual pleafures  are  agreeable  to  my  tafte,  and  this  is 
 a  way  of  being  happy,  without  the  toil  that  attends 
 the  fatisfadlions  of  fenfe. 
 
 Your  Ladyfliip's  commands  to  anfwer  your 
 letter  by  the  firfl  poft  are  perfectly  obliging  :  When 
 I  delay,  'tis  often  to  avoid  being  impertinent,  and 
 for  fear  you  fhould  drop  my  correfpondence  before 
 the  approach  of  death  fhall  warn  me  to  fend  you 
 a  final  adieu. 
 
 ^Traufport'ing  period !  when  wilt  thou  appear  ? 
 *Thoii  Uifsful  dawn  of  that  immortal  day 
 That  ne^er  JJjall  fee  a  dusky  evening  fpread 
 To  veil  its  light ;  which  ne^er  floall  7ieed  the  fun^ 
 NorflarSy  nor  glimiii' ring  moon  to  chear  its  fhade, 
 
 Te  fair  inhabitants  of  Uifsful  feats^ 
 Unfold  your  golden  gates ^  and  call  7ne  hence  : 
 Sick  of  this  mortal  Jlate^  this  round  of  error  ^ 
 Of  darknefs  and  mijlake^  I  long  for  refi. 
 
 Perhaps  this  impatience  to  retir^  from  this  tern- 
 peftuous  world  may  be  the  effect  of  cowardice.  I 
 own  thefe  public  rumours  of  war,  and  nation  rifing 
 againft  nation,  have  a  difmal  profpe6t.  The  an- 
 gel ftanding  in  the  fun  (as  he  is  defcrib'd  in  the 
 Revelations)  feems  to  be  making  his  folemn  invita- 
 tion to  all  the  fowls  that  fly  in  iht  midft  of  Heaven, 
 to  gather  themfelves  together  to  the  fupper  of  the  great 
 God,  that  they  may  eat  the  flefh  of  kings^  avd  the 
 flefh  of  captains,  and  the  fleflyof  horfes,  and  of  thofe 
 that  f\t  on  them. This  invitation  has  in  it  a  fur- 
 
 prizink  grandeur, 
 
 o  o* 
 
 ,l^^\z\x  fans  cerlmonie, 
 
 L  E  T- 
 
LETTERS.  IS- 
 
 LET T  E  R    CVI. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  y 
 
 IF  you  could  flatter  me,  that  my  refentment  would 
 give  you  any  uneafinefs,  I  fliould  certainjy  make 
 ufe  of  that  power  to  my  own  advantage,  by  extort- 
 ing longer  letters  from  you.  It  would  make  me 
 proud  to  have  the  lealt  afcendant  over  a  mind  like 
 yours ;  nor  would  that  vanity  be  without  a  jufl 
 excufe. 
 
 Whatever  detriment  the  public  might  fufier 
 by  your  abfence,  I  can't  help  wifhing  your  Lady- 
 fhip  fequefter'd  in  fome  peaceful  retreat,  for  a  two- 
 fold reafon:  Firft,  that  I  might  hear  oftener,  that 
 you  are  ftill  walking  on  the  face  of  the  earth  ;  and, 
 fecondly,  that  you  might  enjoy  a  more  reafonable 
 happinefs.  I  can  eafily  believe  your  prefent  fitua- 
 tion  is  not  the  fphere  of  your  felicity. 
 
 ^eh  plaiftrs  fournljfent  c^s  vains  entretiens^  qui 
 confument  la  plus  grande  portion  de  vie  ?  Ces  murmurs 
 confus^  ces  difcours  fuperficiels^  qui  excite  une  troupe 
 de  difeurs  de  rien  ?  Ces  circles  ennuieuy:^  ou  I'on  de- 
 mande  au  foleil  &  a  la  pluie^  de  quoy  fournir  desfu- 
 jets?  ^uels  plaifirs  dans  ces  vifites  continuels,  -pre) que 
 toujour s  egalement  a  la  chagrin  des  ceux  qui  les  font  e? 
 ceux  qui  les  re^oivent  ? 
 
 I  HAVE  been  quoting  one  of  MonQeur  Saurin^i 
 lermons,  and  fhall  not  be  quite  happy  till  your 
 Ladyfhip  has  read  him :  Whatever  is  faid  of  the 
 force  and  beauty  of  the  Roman  eloquence,  you  will 
 find  in  thofe  difcourfes. 
 
 Your  Ladyfhip,  I  perceive,  will  not  be  at  lei- 
 (ure  this  month  to  moralize  at  your  hermitage  on 
 
 N  4  the 
 
i84        LETTERS. 
 
 the  vanity  of  human  things ;  but  wherever  you 
 are,  may  you  be  the  care  of  celeftial  providence. 
 
 I  AM  afraid  Mrs. is  really  elop'd  from 
 
 mortals,  or  that  Ihe  has  made  a  vow  never  to  mi- 
 mic the  defpicable  figures  of  the  alphabet  any 
 more.^ — -You  would  be  glad  if  fome  other  amufe-» 
 ment  at  prefent  cmploy'd 
 
 Tour^  &c. 
 
 I 
 
 LETTER     I. 
 
 To  Mr.  Tho.  Rowe, 
 
 SHOULD  be  too  vain,  if  I  believ'd  any 
 thing  1  can  write  could  give  you  half  the  fatis- 
 fadion  your  letter  gave  me.  Tho'  you  have  fo 
 often  alTurM  me  of  the  conftancy  of  your  afFedion, 
 I  always  hear  the  tender  proteilation  with  new  plea,- 
 fure.  I  read  your  letter  over  and  over,  and  grow 
 proud  to  find  I  have  fecur'd  the  heart  of  a  man  of 
 your  fenfe  and  merit.  I  fhall  make  it  the  bufinefs 
 of  my  life  to  fijc  your  efleem,  and  think  that  re- 
 ward worth  all  my  care, 
 
 'Tis  with  great  reafon  I  am  more  impatient  of 
 your  abfence  than  you  can  be  of  mine.  I  hope  not 
 to  be  difappoint;ed  of  hearing  from  you  the  next 
 port ;  nothing  but  that  can  give  me  any  pleafur^ 
 at  this  diftance  from  you.  Pray  be  here  as  foon 
 as  you  can  ;  till  then  adieu.  May  every  watchfyl 
 angel  gu^rd  you, 
 
 hEX^ 
 
LETTERS.  185 
 
 LETTER    II. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 I  COULD  not  content  myfelf  with  fending  my 
 fervice  to  you  by  Mr. ;  there  was  fome- 
 
 thing  in  that  io  cold  and  formal,  and  fo  unequal 
 to  the  tendernefs  I  would  exprefs,  that  I  refolv'd 
 to  write  to  you,  and  fend  you  all  my  foul ;  but 
 words  cannot  paint  that  fincere  afFedion,  that  amity 
 and  juft  efteem,  that  fuch  merit  as  yours  has  in- 
 fpir'd.  However,  \  would  flatter  myfelf  that  your 
 own  heart  will  dictate  fomething  of  what  I  would 
 fpeak,  and  inform  you  with  what  impatience  you 
 ^re  cxpeded  by 
 
 2^^^r  Philomela, 
 
 LETTER     III. 
 
 Xo  the  f mm. 
 
 T  F  I N  D  by  your  letter  that  you  got  well  ^D  the 
 •^  end  of  your  journey ;  in  this  my  prayers  were 
 anfwer'd,  and  may  the  heavenly  guardians  ftill  pro* 
 te6t,  and  return  you  again  to  my  wifhes. 
 
 In  the  mean  time  I  Ihall  give  nobody  occafion 
 to  make  panegyrics  on  my  wit  or  good-humour; 
 that  little  fhare  I  have  of  either,  is  owing  to  the 
 ambition  I  have  to  pleafe  you.  This  gives  a  fe- 
 renity  to  my  thoughts,  and  a  vivacity  to  my  con» 
 verfation.  If  I  endeavour  to  fay  a  fine  thing, 
 'tis  only  to  gain  your  applaufe ;  and  when  you  are 
 abfent,  'tis  indifferent  to  me  whether  I  fpeak  com- 
 mon 
 
i86         LETTERS. 
 
 mon  fenfe  or  not;  all  fociety  grows  infipid,  and 
 I  hear  nothing  chat  deferves  the  leaft  attention ; 
 even  the  rural  icenes  fail  to  pleafe  me ;  the  verdant 
 fhadesand  flowery  fields,  fince  you  are  gone,  have 
 loft  their  charms. 
 
 You  flatter  my  vanity  in  writing  with  fo  much 
 gallantry  and  poiitenefs  j  and  if  making  it  the  bu- 
 finefs  of  my  life  to  be  agreeable  to  the  man  I  love, 
 can  engage  your  heart,  my  happinefs  is  fecure.  Nor 
 is  it  poflible  fuch  merit  as  yours  fhould  ever  fufler 
 jne  to  grow  indifferent. 
 
 WhUe  life  and  breath  remain  •,  and  when  at  lafi 
 
 I  feel  the  icy  hand  of  death  pr^vail^ 
 
 My  heart -Jlrin^s  crack,  and  all  ?nyfenfes  fail, 
 
 ni  fix  thy  ima^e  in  my  clofing  eye^ 
 
 Sigh  thy  dear  name^  then  lay  me  down  and  die, 
 
 LETTER     IV. 
 
 "To  Mrs.  Sarah  Rowe. 
 
 T  AM  extremely  concern'd  that  my  brother  IViU 
 ^  Ham  has  his  health  no  better  than  when  he  was 
 at  the  Batb^  and  fhould  have  be^n  very  glad  if  he 
 could  |iave  ventur'd  himfelf  in  the  countrey.  Tho' 
 I  don't  fee  you,  the  intereft  and  happinefs  of  your 
 family  is  never  out  of  my  thoughts.  I  pray  for 
 nothing  with  greater  flncerity,  than  for  bleflings 
 on  you  and  your  children  :  And  tho'  the  dear 
 youth,  on  whom  I  plac'd  all  my  happinefs,  is  rent 
 from  my  arms,  my  future  life  is  devoted  to  his  me- 
 mory, and  niv  fpoUefs  vows  ihall  be  for  ever  his. 
 
 My 
 
LETTERS.         187 
 
 My  heart  bleeds  afrefii  when  I  name  him,  and 
 tears  put  a  (lop  to  what  I  would  fpeak. 
 
 I  am^  my  dear  Mother^ 
 
 Tour,  &c. 
 
 LETTER     V. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 I  AM  ferry  I  have  given  my  dear  mother  fo  much 
 trouble,  as  it  muft  be  to  difpatch  fo  much  bufi- 
 nefs  fo  foon.  I  am  glad  to  hear  I  have  money 
 enough  to  pay  my  bills.  My  wants  have  been 
 hitherto  plentifully  fupply'd  by  the  divine  provi- 
 dence, on  which  I  defire  immediately  to  rely,  with- 
 out the  lead  regard  to  fecond  caufes.  I  would  turn 
 my  eyes  from  the  whole  creation,  and  diredt  all 
 my  expedations  to  the  God  before  whom  my  fa- 
 thers have  walk'd  ;  the  God  that  has  fed  me  all 
 my  life-long  till  now,  the  Angel  that  has  redeem'd 
 me  froni  all  evil. 
 
 O  who  ha^  tafied  of  his  clemency 
 In  greater  meajure^  or  7nore  oft  than  I? 
 Which  way  foc'er  I  turn  my  eyes  or  feet^ 
 J  fee  his  goodnefs,  and  his  mercy  meet. 
 
 When  every  comfort  on  earth  fail'd  me,  he  knew 
 my  foul  in  its  adverfity  ;  and  was  all  my  fupport, 
 when  darknefs  and  defpair  furrounded  me.  Blefs 
 the  Lord^  0  my  fouU  ^^d  forget  not  all  his  henefits. 
 While  I  have  memory  and  thought,    let  me  not 
 
 forget 
 
i88         LETTERS. 
 
 forget  his  goodnefs,  nor  fufFer  his  mercy  to  flip  one 
 moment  from  my  thoughts.  Let  me  remember 
 the  vows  of  my  diflrefs,  and  perform  them  to  my 
 gracious  benefaflor. 
 
 I  HAVE  my  health,  I  thank  God,  at  prefent, 
 and  am  not  half  fo  lean  as  I  was  in  the  winter  *, 
 but  I  am  Hill  perfuaded  I  have  not  long  to  ftay 
 in  this  world.  ^ 
 
 Oh  I  if  my  threatning  fms  were  gone^ 
 
 And  death  had  lojl  his  Jiingy 
 J  could  invite  the  avgel  on, 
 
 And  chide  his  lazy  wing, 
 
 Mr.  Watts. 
 
 The  "^ws  of  your  illnefs  has  given  me  many 
 melancholy  thoughts.  May  Heaven  long  preferve 
 your  life  on  many  accounts  befides  mine  *,  to  me 
 indeed  it  is  one  of  the  greatefl:  blefTings  I  enjoy : 
 For  I  feel  the  ties  of  gratitude  and  virtue  to  be  as 
 tender  and  fenfible  as  the  ftrongeft  ties  of  nature. 
 I  hope  your  next  will  bring  me  the  welcome  news 
 of  your  perfect  recovery,  and  the  health  of  all 
 your  family,  which  is  the  mod  ftncere  prayer  of. 
 
 My  dear  Mother^ 
 
 Tour,  &;c. 
 
 LET. 
 
 \\ 
 
LETTERS.         189 
 
 LETTER    vr. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 My  dear  Mother^ 
 
 IF  E  E  L  exquifite  afflidlion  for  my  brother's  ill- 
 nefs;  but  'tis  not  his  intereft  in  this  world,  nor 
 even  his  life,  that  gives  me  the  mod  fenfible  con- 
 cern :  If  Heaven  gives  his  mind  a  relifh  and  dif- 
 pofuion  for  immortal  happinefs,  I  confefs  my  warm- 
 eft  wifhes  are  anfwer'd.  O  may  that  God  that  has 
 been  your  dwelling-place  from  generation  to  gene- 
 ration, confirm  his  covenant  with  the  feed  of  the 
 righteous  \  and  may  you  find  that  treafure  you 
 have  committed  to  him  fecur*d,  when  the  times  of 
 refrelhing  Ihall  come.  Indeed  1  have  no  fears  left 
 on  this  head,  when  I  confider  the  fouls  of  your. 
 children  were  made  the  charge  of  providence  by  the 
 prayers  of  their  dying  father.  A  juft  man  would 
 cake  charge  of  the  eftate  of  an  orphan  left  to  his 
 care,  and  Jhall  not  the  Judge  of  all  tht  earth  do  right  ? 
 I  am  fatisfy'd,  I  fhall  find  the  fpiric  of  my  much- 
 lov'd  hufband  triumphing  before  the  throne  of  God, 
 as  foon  as  my  releafe  from  this  tirefome  world  is 
 fign'd. 
 
 Q  fiy^  ye  lingering  hours  I 
 
 I  DARE  not  perfuade  my  father  to  change  the. 
 air,  nor  undertake  a  journey  to  London,  for  fear 
 what  the  confequence  may  be.  Our  ways  are  in 
 the  hands  of  God,  who  prevents,  or  fucceeds  our 
 defigns;  there  is  a  determinM  event  to  every  thing, 
 which  'tis  not  in  the  power  of  man  to  refift.  Thefe 
 thoughts  keep  my  mind  from  much  anxiety.  There 
 can  pafs  but  a  few  circling  years,  and  all  will  be 
 well ;  mortality  icfelf  is  the  greateft  incuntbrance : 
 
 But 
 
igo         L  E  T  T  JE  R  S. 
 
 But  'twill  not  be  long  before  thefe  walls  of  fepera- 
 tion  will  moulder  into  their  primitive  duft,  and  we 
 fhall  meet  in  perfe6l  purity  and  joy. 
 
 I  aniy  my  dear  mother^ 
 
 Toury  &c. 
 
 LETTER.     VII. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 J  A  M  extremely  concernM  to  hear  that  my  dear 
 mother  has  not  her  ufual  health.  It  Ihall  be 
 my  conftant  prayer  that  Heaven  may  long  preferve 
 your  life,  as  a  bleffing  to  your  family,  and  an  ex- 
 ample of  unblemifli'd  piety  to  all  your  friends.  I 
 cannot  but  hope  we  fhall  meet  again  in  this  world, 
 and  pleafe  myfelf  with  the  thoughts  of  enjoying 
 my  dear  mother  next  fummer  in  the  country.  I  am 
 elfe  hopelefs  of  feeing  you;  for  the  more  I  think, 
 the  more  I  am  refolv'd  on  an  abfolute  retreat  from 
 this  world,  of  whofe  vanity  Heaven  has  effe6lually 
 convinced  me,  in  the  breach  of  the  tendereft  en- 
 gagement of  life.  I  have  now  no  fears  or  hopes, 
 that  regard  this  world ;  and  as  to  the  next,  I  thank 
 God,  and  afcribe  it  entirely  to  his  goodnefs,  all 
 my  profpeds  are  gay  and  tranfporting.  And  I  am 
 only  v/aiting  here,  like  the  hireling,  for  the  clofe 
 of  tht  evening,  which  is  drawing  on  apace,  and 
 then  I  fhall  lie  down  to  reft. 
 
 Adieu,  my  dear  mother,  God  grant  you  may 
 be  long  continued  a  joy  and  confolation  to  all  your 
 friends,  and  to  none  more  than  to 
 
 Tour^  Sec. 
 
 LET- 
 
LETTERS.         191 
 
 LETTER    VIIL 
 
 To  the  fame, 
 
 IF  I  knew  any  arguments  to  allay  my  own  grief, 
 I  would  ufe  them  with  my  deareft  mother.  The 
 news  of  my  *  brother's  death  came  in  a  time  when 
 I  was  ill  prepar'd  for  it :  But  I  am  perfwaded  the 
 lives  we  lament  are  both  perfected  in  immortal 
 glory. 
 
 My  brother's  ill  ftate  of  health  has  hung  heavy 
 on  my  foul,  ever  fince  he  was  here.  Heaven  can 
 witnefs  how  often,  amidft  the  watches  of  the  night, 
 I  have  fent  up  petitions  for  his  eternal  welfare  ;  and 
 I  am  perfuaded  the  Spirit  of  God  affifted  me  with 
 more  warm  and  prevailing  arguments  than  were 
 ufual  in  other  cafes  to  my  formal  heart.  And 
 amidft  all  the  bloom  and  gayety  of  youth,  that 
 powerful  voice  that  faid.  Let  there  he  light,  and 
 there  was  lights  could  eafily  and  in  an  inftant,  give 
 the  foul  a  difpofition  for  immortal  pleafure,  and 
 the  fplendor  of  the  beatific  vifion  ;  of  which  I  am 
 fully  perfuaded  my  much-lov'd  brother  is  now 
 pofleft. 
 
 I  TAKE  much  more  care  of  my  life  than  'tis 
 worth  on  any  account,  but  what  regards  another; 
 for,  oh !  I  long  to  be  at  reft ;  tir'd  with  vanity  and 
 life,  I  would  fain  lie  down  in  the  peaceful  foli- 
 tude  of  the  grave;  in  the  grave,  where  all  my 
 earthly  joys  lie  buried. 
 
 /  am,  &c. 
 
 *  Mr.  William  Rotfie.  He  died  on  the  fame  day  with  Mr. 
 Singer,  ji^ril  i^th,  iji^% 
 
 LET- 
 
192         LETTERS. 
 
 LETTER     IX, 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 "V'  OUR  letter,  my  dear  mother,  brought  me 
 -'-  very  agreeable  news,  after  a  thoufand  fears 
 and  anxious  thoughts  for  my  poor  filler  j  and  I 
 defire  to  join  with  you  in  the  moil  fmcere  and  pi- 
 ous gratitude  to  her  great  deliverer.  God  has  blefl 
 you  with  children,  that  in  every  refpedl  might  be 
 the  pride  and  boaft  of  the  happieft  mothers  -,  and 
 if  there  fhould  have  been  no  allay,  your  fatisfadlion 
 would  have  been  too  great  for  a  ilate  fo  uncer- 
 tain as  mortal  life.  Thofe  that  arc  gone,  like 
 Howers  in  the  fpring,  appear'd,  and  foon  retir'd 
 to  the  fountain  of  life  and  beauty  *,  where  you'll 
 find  them  for  ever  fiouriihing  in  the  paradife  of 
 God. 
 
 I  AM  now  making  up  accounts  with  the  young 
 gentleman  to  whom  my  father  was  guardian, 
 and  in  a  few  months  I  hope  to  be  entirely  free  ; 
 and  as  to  all  affairs  of  this  world,  to  fet  my  houfe 
 in  order  to  die.  And  oh  !  that  I  may  be  as  ready 
 as  to  my  fpiritual  and  great  account  j  and  then, 
 how  welcome  will  my  rcleafe  and  long  expedled 
 freedom  be,  from  a  life,  which  tho'  crown'd  with 
 unmerited  bleifing?,  yet  at  belt,  is  but  vanity  !  But 
 I  am  on  the  borders  of  red,  and  the  happy  regions 
 are  almoft  in  fight. 
 
 I  HAVE  endeavour'd  to  rriake  refolutlonvS  of  go- 
 ing to*  London^  this  fpring  •,  but  there  ftill  hangs  a 
 dead  vireight  on  my  foul,  that  takesofFall  the  fprings 
 of  adlion  ;  and  'tis  likely  my  next  remove  will  be 
 to  the  manfions  of  the  dead.  There  is  no  fight, 
 on  this  fide  Heaven,  more  dear  to  me,  than  that 
 of  my  dear  moiher ;  but  I  dare  flatter  myfelf  with 
 
 no 
 
LETTERS.         193 
 
 no  profpe6l  of  happinefs  on  this  fide  the  confines  of 
 Paradife. 
 
 /  amy  &c. 
 
 A/l'»v/M^  yii\/*^ 
 
 LETTER     X, 
 
 To  Mr^.SARAH  ^oYf-E  junior* 
 
 AF  T  E  R  I  have  told  you,  my  dear  fifler, 
 that  your  brother  is  well,  I  have  nothing  in 
 the  world  of  confequence  to  fay  to  you.  Perhaps 
 you  exped:  I  fhould  excufe  my  filence ;  but  my  let- 
 ter will  effe6lually  convince  you  how  little  you  fuf- 
 fer  at  any  time  by  my  negleds  of  that  nature;  and 
 inftead  of  begging  your  pardon  for  writing  no  foon- 
 er,  I  find  I  want  all  your  charity  to  forgive  my 
 
 writing  now. I  am  quite  tir'd  with  my  own 
 
 dulnefs,  thefe  formal  fentences  will  never  reach  to 
 the  bottom  of  the  paper.  U  I  fhould  go  on  after 
 this  grave  manner,  you'll  be  tempted  to  think  I 
 have  patch'd  up  a  letter  out  of  Wit^s  Commonwealtbi 
 but  I  aflure  you  'twill  be  doing  me  the  laft  inju- 
 nice,  for  'tis  all  my  own,  and  has  put  my  genius 
 on  the  ftretch  too. 
 
 I  THINK  Pll  talk  of  love  now,  for  that's  my 
 darling  theme  *,  and  I  am  fare  it  ought  to  be  yours. 
 Now,  with  the  help  of  a  fine  quotation,  I  hope  1 
 Ihall  fill  up  the  relt  of  my  paper.  I  can't  talk  of 
 love,  without  bringing  in  the  country  fcenes,  which 
 never  fail  to  indulge  the  foft  paiTion, 
 
 See  what  delights  in  fylvan  fcenes  appear ^ 
 
 Defc ending  Gods  havejound  Elyfium  here. 
 
 In  woods  bright  Venus  with  Adonis /r^j'J, 
 
 And  chafte  Diana  haunts  iheforeft  /hade. 
 
 Vol.  IL  O  Cc^«^ 
 
194         LETTERS. 
 
 Comfy  lovely  nymph ^  and  hlefs  the  filent  hours^ 
 When  fwaim  from  Jhearingfeek  their  nightly  how^rs''^ 
 When  weary  reapers  quit  the  fultry  fields 
 Andy  crown'* d  with  corn^  their  thanks  to  Ceres  yield r 
 Some  God  conduct  you  to  thefe  hlifsful  feats ^ 
 fthe  moffy  fount ainsy  and  the  green  retreats, 
 Where-e'er  you  walky  cool  Jhades  fhall  fan  the  glade , 
 ItreeSy  where  you  fit,,  fhall  crowd  into  a  fbade ; 
 Where-e* er  you  tread^  the  hlufhing  flowers  fhall  rife  5 
 And  all  things  flourifhy  where  you  turn  your  eyes, 
 
 I  am,  my  dear  filler. 
 
 Your,  Wc. 
 
 LETTER     XL 
 
 lo  the  fame. 
 
 ^  OUR  brother  is  very  devoutly  reading  ^larles 
 -*-  to  me,  and  by  chat  gives  me  a  good  excufe  to 
 write  nGnfenfe.  We  are  reduc'd  to  the  laft  necef- 
 fity,  by  the  want  of  our  things,  and  Mr.  Rowe  is 
 forc'd  to  read  the  pamphlets  of  the  laft  age  for  his 
 entertainment.  He  continues  very  well,  and  does 
 not  complain  of  the  leaft  diforder  in  his  health. 
 We  are  ftill  at  Agford^  and  fhould  tafte  all  de- 
 lights the  country  fcenes  afford,  if  we  could  mectT 
 fuch  nymphs  as  you  in  every  verdant  fhade  to  con- 
 verfe  with  j  your  company  would  complete  the 
 enjoyment,  and  give  the  groves  and  ftreams  new 
 charms.  You  know,  my  dear  fifter,  that  I  am  al- 
 ways unaffefted  and  fincere  in  thefe  kind  of  pro- 
 fefTions, 
 
LETTERS.  t95 
 
 ^7'is  not  indeed  my  talent  to  engage 
 In  lofty  trifles^  or  to  jwell  Jny  page 
 With  wind  and  noife  j  but  freely  to  impart^ 
 As  to  a  friend^  the  fecrets  of  my  heart : 
 And  in  familiar  fpeech  to  let  you  know. 
 How  much  I  love  you^  and  how  much  I  owe. 
 Knock  at  my  hearty  for  thou  haft;  skill  to  find 
 If  it  found  folid,  or  he  fiWd  with  wind ; 
 And  thro"  the  veil  of  words  thou  view* ft  the  naked . 
 mind, 
 
 Af^er  all  this  verfe  and  profe,  I  hope  you'll 
 grant  I  have  wrote  a  long  letter ;  but  have  a  little 
 patience,  and  I'll  releafe  you,  with  my  moft  grateful 
 thanks  and  fincere  duty  to  my  mother,  to  whoin 
 I  have  too  great  obligations  to  be  exprefs'd  ;  but 
 all  that  obedience  and  gratitude  can  return,  fhe  may 
 ftill  command  from  me. 
 
 lam,  jny  dear  fifter. 
 
 Tour,  &CC. 
 
 LETTER     XII. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 IP  the  Spectator  had  not  told  me,  that  the  g/eateft 
 friendfhips  are  leaft  noify  and  talkativ^,  my 
 own  experience  would  have  convinc'd  me  cf  it.  I 
 can't  tell  you,  my  dear  fifter,  how  much  I  value 
 you,  without  doing  violence  to  my  ow;J  temper, 
 which  is  extremely  referv'd  in  making  pretenfions 
 of  this  nature.     But  I  muft  do  myfeif  the  juftlce  to 
 
 O  2  alTure 
 
196         LETTERS. 
 
 afTure  you,  that  abfence  has  not  at  all  leflen'd  my 
 efteem  for  you,  tho'  I  have  been  fo  very  (low  in 
 telling  you  fo.  I  never  wander  in  thefe  charming 
 walks  to  indulge  a  ferious  thought,  but  I  wifh  you 
 here,  and  fancy  with  how  much  pleafure  our  con- 
 verfation  might  rife  from  earthly  to  heavenly  things, 
 and  paint  the  blifsful  groves  and  fields  of  light, 
 where  love  and  facred  friend fhip  reign  for  ever. 
 
 I  HOPE  you  have  your  health  better  than  you 
 had  in  town ;  and  for  your  being  happy,  I  don't 
 doubt  but  'tis  the  care  of  Providence  to  make  you 
 fo.  Adieu,  my  dear  filler  ;  and  may  the  light  of 
 his  countenance,  whofe  benignity  is  better  than 
 life,  conduct  you  to  immortal  joys. 
 
 I  ani^  &c. 
 
 LETTER     XIII. 
 
 To  the  fa?ne. 
 
 HOW  happy,  my  dear  fifler,  fhould  I  think 
 myfelf,  if  I  could  kindle  one  fpark  of  that 
 heavenly  fire  in  your  brcaft,  that  burns  fo  faintly 
 in  ny  own !  How  blefl  Ihould  I  be,  to  find  it  in 
 my  :)ower  to  help  you  forward  but  one  fiep  in  thofe 
 facrei  paths,  from  wliich  I  myfelf  fliall  perhaps 
 for  e^er  err  ! 
 
 ^higates  of  hell  ftand  open  night  and  day^ 
 S?no\th  the  defcent^  and  eafy  is  the  way  ; 
 But  n  afcend^  and  view  the  bUfsful  skieSy 
 ^here  \he  fatigue  and  mighty  lalour  lies, 
 
 'Tis  a  diff^uky,  which  in  fome  anxious  moments 
 almofi:  tempts  me  to  yield  to  my  fears,  and  tamely 
 
 e[ive 
 
LETTERS.         197 
 
 give  up  my  title  to  an  immortal  crown,  and  bid 
 the  fields  of  light  adieu.     Thus 
 
 By  glimmering  hopes ,  and  gloomy  fears ^ 
 
 JVe  trace  the  facred  road 'y 
 Thro*  difmal  deeps,  and  dan^rous  fnares^ 
 
 We  make  our  way  to  God» 
 
 I  MIGHT  have  favM  myfelf,  and  you,  my  dear 
 lifter,  the  trouble  of  this  letter  j  but  that  I  fhould 
 not  have  feen  you  without  fome  confufion,  after  I 
 have  fo  long  negledled  to  write  to  you ;  and  this 
 would  have  been  fome  allay  to  the  pleafure  I  pro- 
 mife  myfelf  in  meeting  you  again.  "We  fhall  be 
 in  London,  I  hope,  next  week.  I  have  perfwaded 
 Mr.  Rowe  to  go  a  fortnight  before  his  time,  for 
 fear  the  weather  and  roads  Ihould  prove  intolerable. 
 If  any  thing  could  make  me  love  the  town,  'twould 
 be  the  tendernefs  I  have  for  you :  My  manner  of 
 exprefling  it  is  perhaps  too  referv'd. 
 
 My  words  are  few,  hut  from  an  honefi  heart ; 
 And  truth  makes  up  for  eloquence  and  art. 
 
 But  the  liberty  and  folitude  I  enjoy  in  the  country 
 charms  me  fo  much,  that  to  gain  that  happinefs,  I 
 could  even  bid  you,  my  dear  fitter,  farewel,  till 
 we  meet  in  the  realms  of  uninterrupted  peace  and 
 pleafure. 
 
 I  am.  Sec, 
 
 O  3  LET 
 
i9§         LETTERS, 
 
 LETTER     XIV. 
 
 To  the  fame, 
 
 T  H  A  V  E  been  juft  taking  a  folitary  walk,  and 
 ■*■  entertaining  myfelf  with  all  the  innocent  pl6ar 
 fures,  that  verdant  fhades,  painted  flowers,  fragrant 
 breezes  and  warbling  birds  can  yield.  If  I  could 
 communicate  my  pleafure  by  defcription,  I  would 
 call  the  mufes  to  afTift  me  ;  but  I  am  afraid  'twould 
 be  infipid  to  you,  that  are  but  moderately  fond 
 of  the  country.  Yet  I  am  fure  you  would  relifli 
 any  pleafure  that  heighten'd  your  devotion  ;  and 
 what  can  more  effedually  raife  it,  than  viewing  the 
 beauties  of  nature  ?  1  have  been  pulling  a  thoufand 
 flowers  in  pieces,  to  view  their  elegance  and  vari- 
 ety, and  have  a  thoufand  times  with  rapture  re« 
 peated  Milton's  lines 
 
 'Thefe  are  thy  glorious  zvorh^  Parent  of  good, 
 j^lmighty^  thine  this  univ erf al  frame ^ 
 ^hus  wondWous  fair  'i  thyfelf  how  wond'rous  then  I 
 Speak,  ye,  who  heft  can  tell,  yefons  of  light y 
 Angels ;  for  ye  behold  him.  — 
 
 TThey  indeed  behold  the  great  original  ;  but  'tis 
 not  deny'd  me  to  trace  his  footfleps  in  the  flowery 
 fields,  and  hear  fome  faint  echoes  of  his  voice  in 
 the  harmony  of  birds,  or  meet  his  gentle  whifpers 
 in  the  foftnefs  of  the  evening  breezes  •,  yet  this 
 only  raifes  my  impatience  to  be  admitted  to  the 
 blifsful  vifion  of  uncreated  beauty. 
 
 My  foul  the  moft  exalted  fitch  would  fly. 
 And  fee  him  in  the  heights  of  majefty. 
 
 AVE 
 
LETTERS.         199 
 
 We  fhall  be  in  London  in  a  very  little  time. 
 I  long  to  fee  you,  and  exped  the  happy  moment 
 with  the  laft  impatience ;  but  I  own  1  ihould  relifli 
 my  happinefs  more  perfedly,  if  we  were  to  meet 
 in  fome  rural  fhade,  remote  from  the  noife  and  tu- 
 mult of  the  town :  But  all  human  blifs  muft  have 
 its  allay,  and  we  are  not  to  exped:  unmingled  plea- 
 sures, till  we  meet  in  the  walks  of  paradife. 
 
 Adieu,  my  dear  fifter-,  may  angels  guard  you, 
 and  Heaven  blefs  you  with  perpetual  fmiles, 
 
 J  amy  &c. 
 
 LETTER     XV. 
 
 V^o  the  fame. 
 
 H  E  N  I  write  to  you,  my  dear  fifler,  I 
 can't  forbear  talking  of  what  lies  neareft 
 my  heart,  and  raifing  a  frefh  concern  in  yours,  for 
 the  lofs  of  your  charming  brother.  Since  that  fatal 
 moment,  my  foul  has  never  known  a  joy  that  has 
 been  fincere.  I  look  backward,  and  recal  nothing 
 but  tormenting  fcenes  of  pleafures  that  have  taken 
 their  everlafting  flight ;  and  forward,  every  pro- 
 fpsd:  is  wild  and  gloomy.  Why  was  I  ever  hap- 
 py ?  or  why  can't  I  by  any  motives  of  reafon  for- 
 get the  obje6t  of  my  care  ?  That^s  impolTible  !  the 
 charming  form  appears  for  ever  in  my  fight,  and 
 I  half  deceive  myfelf  with  imaginary  joys ;  but 
 when  I  recover  from  the  fofc  delufion,  I  grow,  per- 
 fedly  wild  and  favage,  and  fly  humankind,  be- 
 caufe  I  can  fee  nothing  that  refembles  him  \  and 
 am  difgufted  ac  every  found  I  hearj  becaufe  it 
 does  not  imitate  his  voice. 
 
 O  4  Qht 
 
200        LETTERS. 
 
 O  he  was  all  my  foul!  wealthy  friend/hip,^  honour^ 
 All  prefent  joys^  and  earnefi  of  the  future^ 
 Were  all  fumni'd  up  in  him. 
 
 The  *  enclos'd,  my  dear  filler,  is  what  my  me- 
 lancholy fancy  didated  on  the  return  of  the  fatal 
 day  that  robb'd  me  at  once  of  all  the  joys  of  life  ; 
 a  day  that  I  have  for  ever  confecrated  to  folitude 
 and  grief  My  conftancy  to  the  charming  youth, 
 and  regard  to  his  memory,  Ihall  be  the  pride  and 
 glory  of  my  life ;  and  I  flatter  myfelf  it  fhall  be 
 mention'd  at  my  funeral,  and  writ  on  my  grave. — 
 I  would  fay  more,  but  my  fpirits  fmk  too  much, 
 and  tears  prevent  the  reft. 
 
 O  celeflial  pointy  that  ends  this  mortal  ft  oryl 
 
 *  The  poem  on  the  return  of  the  day  on  which  Mr.  Kowe  died. 
 •i!V»  •<lv»  •~<iv*  'J'n    'A)'*  "^tji^  HV"  l^*  *^^  '<8»*  '^^  •''l^*  '<fV'  "^  "^  H'" 
 
 LETTER     XVr. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 IF  I  could  write  to  you,  my  dear  fifter,  with 
 half  the  pleafure  that  1  could  talk  to  you,  you 
 would  hear  ofrner  from  me.  There  are  a  thoufand 
 impertinent  negligent  things,  which  have  a  very 
 good  air  in  converfation,  tha.t  make  but  a  filly 
 appearance,  when  one  comes  to  write  them  down, 
 and  fubfcribe  to  them  in  a  formal  manner.  If  I 
 was  talking  to  you,  I  fhould,  without  the  leaft  re- 
 morfe,  enter  into  a  panegyric  on  the  art  magic, 
 and  tell  you  how  much  I  envy'd  Jaffa's  Armida, 
 who  could  in  an  inftant  raife  gardens  and  groves 
 by  the  power  of  enchantment  *,  while  I  am  forc'd 
 to  wait  the  flow  progrefs  of  nature,  and  the  awk- 
 ward operation  of  human  hands.     For  after  all  my 
 
 hopes 
 
,    L  E  T  T  E  R  S.         201 
 
 hopes  and  endeavours,  I  have  nothing  towards  a 
 garden,  but  a  ftone  wall.  This  dry  weather  withers 
 every  thing,  and  now  the  patient  people  tell  me,  I 
 (pan  do  nothing  till  another  fpring ;  as  if  I  was  to 
 live  to  the  age  of  Sbalum*s  miilrefs  in  the  Spe^iator. 
 Thefe  difappointments  are  indeed  trifles  in  the  courfe 
 ^f  life  ;  but  yet  they  ought  to  produce  this  ferious 
 refledion,  that  man  walks  in  a  vain  Jhev;^  and  dif- 
 quiets  himfelf  in  vain, 
 
 I  AM  extremely  pleas'dwith  the  tragedy  of  the 
 Fall  of  Siatn  j  but  am  ready  at  any  time  to  retradl  my 
 opinion,  in  deference  to  the  public  tafte.  I  am  very- 
 much  oblig'd  to  Mr. ,  for  endeavouring  to 
 
 procure  the  French  Cato  for  me.  If  he  goes  to  the 
 Bath  this  fummer,  I  hope  he'll  Hay  fome  time  at 
 Frome  \  but  for  the  next  fummer,  I  have  no  hopes 
 or  fears,  that  concern  fuch  a  diftance  of  time. 
 
 I  FIND  I  had  no  reafon  to  write  in  a  capital 
 hand,  for  I  fhall  fill  up  my  paper,  and  leave  fome 
 impertinence  for  the  next  opportunity. 
 
 I  am^  Sec, 
 
 LETTER     XVII. 
 
 To  Mr.  William  Rcwe. 
 
 MY  heart  has  charg'd  you,  my  dear  brother, 
 with  nothing  but  what  is  incident  to  mor- 
 tality ;  with  nothing  but  that  mutability  to  which 
 the  whole  creation  is  fubjedl.  And  indeed  the  whole 
 creation  pleads  in  your  excufe;  the  changing  fea- 
 fons,  and  the  revolutions  of  the  heavens  themfelves, 
 reproach' my  heart  for  the  confidence  it  plac'd  in 
 vain  man. 
 
 You 
 
202         LETTERS. 
 
 You  hardly  think  the  tears  are  falling  from  my 
 eyes,  as  indeed  they  are,  while  I  am  writing  in 
 this  fantaftic  manner. 
 
 My  foul  is  ill  prepar'd,  my  dear  brother,  to 
 fee  you ;  I  know  you  will  recal  to  my  thoughts  a 
 thoufand  diftracling  fcenes,  that  I  vainly  drive  to 
 blot  from  my  memory  ;  unlefs  you  are  as  much 
 aker'd  in  every  thing,  as  you  tell  me  you  are  in 
 your  temper,  and  have  loft  all  refembJance  of  your 
 brother.  I  am  impatient  to  fee  you,  and  yet  I 
 can't  promife  myfelf  a  moment's  fatisfa6lion  -,  my 
 foul  is  fo  us'd  to  melancholy  images,  that  nothing 
 chears  the  eternal  gloom.  You  need  not  bring 
 any  new  books  into  the  country  with  you  -,  for 
 fmce  Mr.  Rowe's  death  all  kinds  of  entertainment 
 are  infipid  to  me,  and  I  look  on  every  thing  below 
 fhe  ftars  with  indifference  and  contempt. 
 
 Jdieu, 
 
 LETTER     XVIIL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 My  dear  brother^ 
 
 YO  U  are  very  patient  to'  bear  with  my  epi* 
 ftles,  fmce  I  can  fend  you  no  intelligence  from 
 wilds  and  defarts,  and  know  as  little  of  this  world 
 as  people  who  have  made  their  exit  from  if,  which 
 makes  it  very  hard  for  me  to  maintain  a  corre- 
 fpondence  with  any  of  my  friend.-:  who  are  ftill  fur- 
 viving;  nor  are  people  very  fond  of  converfing 
 with  fpeclres  and  departed  fpirits.  But  there  is  a 
 fort  of  ferious  and  melancholy  pleafure,  in  fancy- 
 ing one's-felf  in  a  ftate  of  fcparadon.     As  all  my 
 
 joys 
 
LETTERS.         203 
 
 joys  He  buried  in  the  duft,  my  imagination  fixes 
 itfelf  with  eafe  on  thefe  fybjedls  •,  nor  does  the 
 filence  and  folitude  which  reigns  eternally  in  my 
 chamber,  differ  very  much  from  that  of  a  fepul- 
 chre.  However,  my  thoughts  are  not  entirely  con- 
 fined to  thefe  gloomy  manfions,  but  fometimes 
 malce  excurfions  into  the  E.lyfian  fields  and  myrtle 
 groves ; 
 
 Where  crowned  with  flow'rs  they  rejl  on  mojfy  heds^ 
 By  cryjlal  ftrea7ns  that  murmur  thro'  the  me  ads  ^ 
 ^0  wintry  horrors  hlajl  the  hlifsful  clme^ 
 'But  fpring  perpetual  f miles  in  rofy  prime: 
 Nor  pain^  7wr  woe  pollute  the  happy  plains^ 
 But  pleafure  in  eternal  triumph  reigns. 
 
 But  the  foothing  vifion  foon  difappears,  and  I  re- 
 turn to  dull  mortality  again,  and  eat,  and  drink, 
 and  dream  fuccelTively,  with  fome  fhort  intervals 
 of  reafon;  which  are  fill'd  up  with  impatient  wifhes 
 for  the  breaking  of  the  immortal  day,  when  this 
 jow  and  wretched  part  of  exillence  fhall  find  a  pe- 
 riod ; then  all  beyond  is  adtive  pleafure,  and 
 
 undecaying  life. 
 
 Adieu,  my  dear  brother.  I  would  willingly 
 flatter  myfelf  that  I  am  on  the  borders  of  the  im- 
 material world,  and  fiiall  never  fee  you  more,  till 
 we  meet  above  the  flats.  But  oh  !  may  you  fee 
 a  thoufand  happy  days,  and  pra(5life  the  nobleft 
 heights  of  virtue,  when  I  am  releas'd  from  all  the 
 toils  and  forrows  of  mortality,  and  gently  reft  on 
 my  dufty  bed. 
 
 /  am^  6>cc» 
 
 LET' 
 
-04         LETTERS. 
 
 LETTER     XIX. 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 My  dear  hrother, 
 XT  O  U  are  not  more  charmM  with  your  herOs 
 ■^  than  I  am  to  find  you  pleas'd  with  the  moft 
 noble  and  fubJime  parts  of  the  new  tragedy.  'Tis 
 true,  according  to  the  weaknefs  of  my  fex,  I  might 
 have  been  touch'd  with  beauties  of  a  more  foft  and 
 effeminate  nature ;  but  it  fhews  a  fuperior  turn  of 
 mind,  to  enter  into  public  and  generous  fentiments, 
 pf  which  you  exprefs  fo  jufl  an  admiration. 
 
 You  have  too  modeft  an  opinion  of  yourfelf, 
 in  fufpeding  my  friendlhip  ;  tho'  the  tender  rela- 
 tion I  had  to  your  brother  is  diflblv'd,  a  thoufand 
 other  obligations  bind  me  to  the  intereft  of  your 
 family,  which  no  time,  nor  accident  will  have  power 
 to  bloc  from  my  foul.  While  virtue  and  gratitude 
 are  words  of  facred  importance,  I  ihall  never  lofe 
 the  remembrance  of  the  feries  of  favours  I  receiv'd 
 from  you  in  my  late  happy  relation.  Your  whole 
 famjly  feem'd  in  a  gentle  confederacy,  how  to  crown 
 
 my  hours  with  tranquility  and  joy '    May  that 
 
 kind  and  generous  treatment  I  had  among  you  find 
 a  full  retribution;  whatever  blefllngs  Heaven  has 
 in  flore  for  mortals,  may  they  be  all  yours. 
 
 For  myfelf,  I  afk  nothing 'but  to  conclude  my 
 part  as  foon  as  poffible,  and  to  finifh  the  great 
 action  of  life  with  the  applaufe  of  that  impartial 
 Judge,  who  knows  the  moft  fecret  intentions  of  my 
 foul. 
 
 But  whatever  variety  of  happinefs,   whatever 
 duration  of  being  I  fhall  pafs,  my  efteem  for  you 
 will  be  unalterable.     Thofe   fparks.  of  amity  and 
 .  beneficence,    which    Heaven    has   kindled   in   my 
 breaft,  can  never  be  extinguifh'ds  this  facred  prin- 
 ciple 
 
LETTERS.         205 
 
 ciple  of  love  fhall  be  perpetually  improving  in  the 
 peaceful  realms  of  light. 
 
 When  confiant  Faith ^  and  holy  Hope  Jhall  dig ^ 
 One  loji  in  certainty^  and  one  in  joy ;     - 
 nen  thou^  more  happy  pow*r^  fair  Charity ^ 
 Triumphant  fifter^  great ejl  of  the  three y 
 Thy  office  and  thy  nature  Jiill  the  fame^ 
 Lafting  thy  lamp^  and  unconfum^d  thy  fiame^ 
 
 Shalt  Jiill  furvive- 
 
 Shalt  ft  and  before  the  throne  of  heav*n  confeji^ 
 For  ever  bkjfmg^  and  for  ever  bleji. 
 
 Prior. 
 Adieu. 
 
 LETTER     XX. 
 
 To  the  fafne. 
 
 My  dear  brother^ 
 
 My  friendfhip  for  you  burns  with  aa  undecay- 
 ing  flame,  and  is  as  confiant  as  the  breath 
 of  life  •,  and  even  when  that  fhall  ceafe,  and  the 
 dufl  return  to  its  primitive  dufl,  and  the  fpirit  to. 
 irs  divine  original,  this  holy  palTion  fhall  acquire 
 new  adlivicy. 
 
 Be  affur'd  that  nothing  that  concerns  yourfelf 
 can  be  infignificant  to  me.  If  you  would  but 
 lengthen  out  your  letters,  tho'  it  were  with  the 
 moft  trifling  things  you  can  invent,  'twould  be 
 agreeable  to  one  that  has  the  fondeft  concern  for 
 you. 
 
 If  you  knew  the  difpofition  of  my  heart,  you 
 '.vould  have  no  reafon  to -make  an  apology  for  not 
 
 writing 
 
2o6        LETTERS!. 
 
 writing  in  a  more  gay  and  fprightly  manner.  What^ 
 ever  is  penfive  and  ferious  fuits  my  natural  tafte^ 
 and  is  entirely  agreeable  to  the  prefent  gloomy  cir- 
 cumftances  of  my  life.  I  am  quite  tir'd  with  the 
 calm  and  happy  mortals  that  furround  me,  .and,  to 
 my  great  vexation,  I  caa't  meet  one  countenance  in  ' 
 which  there  is  not  an  abfolute  vacancy  of  thought- 
 fulnefs  and  care.  'Tis  furprizing  that  fuch  ferene 
 and  untroubled  llupidity  can  be  riiaifttain'd  amidft 
 all  the  miferies  of  mortality. 
 
 How  vain  is  hope,  and  how  vexatious  thought  t 
 
 From  growing  childhood  to  declining  age^ 
 
 How  tedious  ev^ry  ftep !  how  gloomy  ev*ry  ftage  ! 
 
 ^his  courfe  of  vanity  almoft  complete^ 
 
 Tir^d  in  the  field  of  life^  I  hope  retreat 
 
 In  the  ftill  fhades  of  death :  For  dread^  and  pain. 
 
 And  grief  ^  will  find  their  fhafts  elanc^d  in  vain^ 
 
 And  their  points  broke  y  retorted  from  the  head. 
 
 Safe  in  the  grave^  and  free  among  the  dead. 
 
 Prior, 
 I  am,  i£c, 
 
 P.  S,  I  forgot  to  bid  the  honed  man  who  is 
 to  call  at  your  houfe,  knock,  if  he  found  the  door 
 fhut.  If  that  fhould  be  the  cafe,  I  am  fure  he'll 
 be  guilty  of  no  violence,  but  will  return  back  as 
 innocently  as  any  /:/(?//<?«/o^jull.  brought  out  of  his 
 native  rock.  I  believe  he  never  made  any  noife 
 fince  he  was  born. 
 
 LET. 
 
LETTERS.         207 
 
 LETTER     XXL 
 
 lo  the  fame. 
 
 I  HAVE  a  thoufand  kind  and  ferious  things  to 
 fay  to  my  deareft  brother ;  but  oh !  in  what 
 language  fhail  I  fpeak  ?  Lend  me  your  harps,  ye 
 angels,  and  teach  me  Ibme  of  the  melting  notes  by 
 which  you  give  departing  faints  a  tafte  of  celeiliai 
 raptures. 
 
 Such  notes  as  echo  thro'  the  Uifsful  plains^ 
 When  your  immortal  loves  infpire  the  Jlrains, 
 
 Heavens !  that  creatures   born  for  infinite  things 
 fhould  ever  trifle  !  that  beings  form'd  for  lading 
 and  unmingled    happinefs,    Ihould  give   up  their 
 pretenfions  for  unfubflantial  dreams  and  fleeting, 
 ilia  do  ws  1 
 
 Instead   of  opening  the  fcenes  of  paradife,  I 
 am  got  into  a  fplenetic  reflection  on  the  mifcries 
 
 of  mortality. 'Twill  not  be  otherwife,  while 
 
 my  foul  wears  a  mortal  frame ;  but  when  I  have 
 learn'd  the  fongs  of  paradife,  I'll  endeavour  to 
 allure  you  from  this  vain  world  to  the  heavenly 
 
 regions. 
 
 I  HAVE  juft  heard  that  Mr. '-— —  rs  dead,  and 
 fo  fuddenly,  that  he  was  fitting  in  his  chair  with  no 
 mortal  in  the  room  ;  only  his  wife  heard  a  difmal 
 groan,  and  running  to  him,  found  him  fpeechlefs, 
 and  his  eyes  fet  in  death.  His  wretched  life  and 
 infidel  principles  have  given  my  thoughts  a  very 
 melancholy  turn,  and  I  have  chofen  this  ferious 
 moment  to  write  to  my  deareft  brother.  Nor  can 
 I  imagine  why  the  fubjedl  fhould  be  difigreeable 
 10  you:   To  you,  I  would  perfuade  myfelf,  death 
 
 has 
 
^o8         LETTERS. 
 
 has  nothing  in  his  afped  but  fmilcs  and  graces. 
 And  oh  1 
 
 Whenever  thou  dffi^  may  arms  of  angels  waft  thee 
 7*0  thofefmooth  joys  that  have  no  broken  moment. 
 
 I  FANCX'  you  look  on  my  letters  as  conftant 
 memento'^s  of  mortality,  and  open  them  with  as 
 much  folemnity  as  you  do  a  fermon  ftitch'd  in  black 
 paper,  with  a  death's  head  in  the  frontifpiece.  But, 
 my  dear  brother,  while  mortality  hangs  about  us, 
 the  folemn  truth  will  return  on  our  memory^  what- 
 ever pains  we  take  to  banifli  it. 
 
 /  am^  &c. 
 
 LETTER    XXIL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 I  DO  not  envy  you  the  pleafure  of  reading  Mr, 
 's  tragedy  ;  but,  my  dear  brother,  I  confefs 
 
 I  envy  him  the  happinefs  of  having  pleas'd  fo  exadt 
 a  judge.  I  don't  queflion  but  'tis  extremely  fine, 
 fince  it  has  deferv'd  your  approbation.  I  believe 
 you  need  not  be  in  any  pain  about  the  difpofal  of 
 the  author's  heart.  He  knows  how  a  heroine  ihould 
 be  made,  and  if  he  does  not  find  real  graces,  can 
 eafily  fupply  them  out  of  his  own  gay  imagination^ 
 You  know  a  poetic  fancy  has 
 
 Lengths^  and  heights^  and  depths  unknown^ 
 
 Broad  fields  with  bloombig  glories  /own, 
 
 Andfcas^  and  JkieSy  and  ftars  its  own^ 
 
 In  an  unmeafur^d  fpbere. 
 
 Dr.  Watts. 
 
 But 
 
LETTERS.  209 
 
 But  I  fancy,  when  your  turn  comes  to  love,  you 
 will  not  be  fo  cheaply  provided  with  materials  to 
 complete  your  felicity.  But  oh  !  indulge  this  noble 
 delicacy,  it  may  guide  you  to  perfect  happinefs. 
 For  fure  the  charming  palTion  has  a  divine  original, 
 for  God  himfelf  is  love  \  by  him  the  facred  flame 
 was  kindled,  and  fills  the  foul  with  generous  fenti- 
 ments  and  elegant  defires :  It  breaks  thro'  all  created 
 perfedion,  and  keeps  on  its  reftlefs  courfe  to  the 
 firft:  pattern  of  whatever  is  excellent  or  fair. 
 
 You  fee,  my  dear  brother,  whether  I  tread  the 
 paths  to  perdition,  or  thofe  that  guide  me  to  the 
 ftars,  love  is  the  moving  principle.  'Tis  fo,  I  am 
 fure,  when  I  make  wifhes  for  your  happinefs,  and 
 pray  that  every  gentle  power  above  may  b:^  pro- 
 pitious to  my  deareft  brother. 
 
 LETTER     XXIIL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 PERHAPS  I  treated  you  with  too  much  fin- 
 cerity  in  my  laft  ;  but,  my  dear  brother,  you 
 find  by  it  that  I  believe  every  thing  of  you  that 
 can  be  an  advantage  to  your  chara(fler,  and  would 
 fancy  that  you  poiTefs  every  Ihining  quality  that 
 makes  you  refemble  the  object  of  my  fondefb 
 thoughts  and  endlefs  grief.  He  taught  my  heart 
 a  pafTion,  whofe  nicety  and  grandeur  could  not  fail 
 of  giving  my  future  thoughts  a  fort  of  ferious  ele- 
 vation ;  while  with  gratitude  I  acknowledge  the 
 power,  and  blefs  the  divinity  of  love. 
 
 When  you  make  wifhes  for  me  again,  my  deareft 
 brother,  let  not  long  life  be  join'd  to  the  blelTings 
 
 Vol,  IL  P  you 
 
2IO         LETTERS. 
 
 you  ask.  I  am  tlr'd  with  the  vanities  beneath  the 
 fun  ;  all  that  amufes  mankind  are  but  dreams  of 
 happinefs,  fhades  and  fantaftic  appearances.  You 
 don*t  believe  me,  I  know ;  but  the  fatal  experiment 
 will  convince  you  of  this  melancholy  truth,  within 
 the  courfe  of  a  few  circling  years,  if  Heaven  permits 
 you  to  reach  them  i  if  not,  when  arm'd  with  virtue. 
 
 What  is  there  in  this  dreadful  nothings  deaths 
 ^hat  we  Jhould  fear  ? 
 
 Whatever  darknefs  hangs  on  the  gloomy  valley, 
 beyond  it  ten  thoufand  dazzling  fcenes  arife,  more 
 beautiful  than  the  vifions  of  Mirza,  For  my  part, 
 I  fet  no  limits  to  my  expectations,  nor  reftrain  my 
 fancy  from  making  the  boldeft  excurfions  into  thefe 
 infinite  regions,  where  I  behold  beauty  in  all  its 
 exquifite  variety,  and  hear  the  found  of  immortal 
 harmony. 
 
 •  /  zvalk  among  the  manfons  of  the  Gods^ 
 The  foft  receffes^  and  the  bleft  abodes, 
 
 I  AM  got  into  the  celeftial  ftile,  and  would  fain 
 forget  that  I  am  writing  to  a  beau,  a  mere  terre- 
 ftrial  creature.     But  oh  I 
 
 /  fink  at  once,  and  leave  the  skies. 
 
 How  tranfient  are  the  flights  of  devotion  !  how 
 foon  do  earthly  objects  return  With  all  their  feduce- 
 iiig  advantages ! 
 
 Faint  are  the  efforts  of  my  willy 
 And  mortal  paffion  charms  my  foul  aflray. 
 
 Ad  1  Eu,  my  deareft  brother.  May  Heaven  make 
 you  happy  beyond  the  limits  of  your  own  wifhes. 
 
 LET- 
 
LETTERS.  211 
 
 LETTER     XXIV. 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 YOU  are  in  the  right,  my  dear  brother,  in 
 believing  that  I  had  much  rather  date  my 
 letters  to  you  from  the  morning  ftar,  or  the  argent 
 fields  of  the  moon,  than  from  a  little  village  in 
 the  county  of  Somerfet.  Mortality  itfelf,  without 
 its  attendant  evils,  feems  to  me  a  very  humbhng 
 circumftance  ;  and  I  am  delighted  with  the  divines 
 for  giving  it  the  reproachful  terms  of  flavery,  chains, 
 imprifonment,  and  every  thing  hateful  to  reafon 
 and  nature.  But  fince  there  is  no  concealing  the 
 mortifying  truth,  without  quitting  the  pleafure  of 
 your  correfpondence,  I  am  content  you  Ihould 
 know  that  I  am  ftill  below  the  ftars,  confin'd  to 
 thefe  dufly  regions,  breathing  the  grofs  element  of 
 air,  and  drinking  tea  inftead  of  nedlar,  and  encum- 
 ber'd  with  a  body  of  clay,  inftead  of  fparkling  in 
 a  vehicle  of  light.  I  am  ftill  no  better  than  a 
 wretched  mortal,  and  am  forc'd  to  content  myfelf 
 with  walks  of  turf  or  gravel,  however  ambitious 
 you  think  me  of  fetting  my  feet  on  the  fpangled 
 pavement,  and  tracing  the  milky  way.  But  ftill 
 my  fancy  is  unconfin'd,  and  makes  many  a  gay  ex- 
 curfion  to  the  realms  of  day,  wanders  zhvo*  Ely/ian 
 fields,  and  reclines  beneath  myrtle  ftiades*,  where 
 
 On  fiow*rs  repos*d,  and  with  freJJj  flow' reti  crown' d^ 
 They  eat^  they  drink^  and  in  communion  fweet 
 ^aff  immortality  and  joy  feciire. 
 
 But  the  foothing  vifion  quickly  takes  its  flight,  the 
 celeftial  fcenes  vanifh,  and,  for  an  ethereal  enlarge- 
 ment, I  find  myfelf  limited  to  a  den,  a  dwelling 
 
 P  2  in 
 
212         LETTERS. 
 
 in  the  duft.  Inflead  of  feafting  on  ambrofia,  and 
 banquecting  with  angels,  I  am  reduc'd  to  the  com- 
 mon food  of  mortals-,  and,  mitead  of  the  muficof 
 the  fphercs,  am  ferenaded  vvjth  a  ploughman's  whi- 
 fl:le,or  fome  ruftic  fhepherd's. jovial  poundelay.  How- 
 ever, I  have  my  fhare  of  tranquility  in  this  ftormy 
 world.  This  low  part  of  exiftence  will  foon  be 
 ended,  and  all  beyond  js.r(jfin'd  and  exalted  hap- 
 pinefs. 
 
 LETTER    XXV. 
 
 Tg  the  fame. 
 
 My  dear  hr other ^ 
 
 YOUR  letter  has  given  me  a  little  relifh  for 
 life  and  the  world  again,  which  I  had  entirely 
 loft  before.  Whatever  wild  ambition  craves,  or 
 boundlefs  vanity  can  paint,  the  fplendor  of  the 
 great,  and  the  pleafures  of  the  libertine,  had  loft 
 their  enchanting  appearances  j^  while  my  gloomy 
 ^imagination  fincy*d  my  deareft  brother  ex^y-ring, 
 '''arid  with  him  all  the  charms  rh-^^t  yo^th  and  bkiom- 
 ing  life  could  boaft. 
 
 '  Th'efdirefi  "flovfr  (hard' fate  l")  iuimi^s  and  dies. 
 Does  its  gay  honours  to  our  eyes-  dlfplay^ 
 And  while  we  praife  its  beauty^,  finks  away. 
 
 Strength  of  reafon,  and  fortitude  of  mind! 
 what  pompous  words  are  thefe?  but  how  little  do 
 they  fignify  to  a  mind  fo  unguarded  and  effeminate 
 a5  mine  ?  I  have  a  concern  tor  my  dearelt  brother's 
 
 life. 
 
LETTER  S.  213 
 
 Jife,  which  no  argument  can  remove,  nor  any 
 amufement  divert  i  nothing  but  filent  tears  can  re- 
 lieve me.  Heaven,  who  knows  the  fecret  idolatry 
 of  my  heart,  may  perhaps  remove  the  darling  ob- 
 jed,  and  blot  every  name  but  what  is  divine  from 
 my  foul. 
 
 I  WAS  going  to  pray  for  you,  but,  my  deareft 
 brother,  I  know  not  what  b.lelTings  to  ask.  Not 
 what  would  make  you  happy,  that  relate  only  to 
 this  world  *,  let  the  ardor  of  my  vows  (and  liften- . 
 ing  angels  can  witnefs  how  fincere  they  are)  let' 
 them  procure  immortal  pleafures  for  you,  and  I 
 lliall  clofe  my  eyes  in  peace,  and  thank  the  pro- 
 pitious powers  with  my  expiring  breath.  Adieu. 
 If  half  my  prayers  reach  the  skies,  you  mud,  you 
 will  be  happy. 
 
 Mr.— —  has  a  fofter  propofal  to  make  to  you, 
 but  the  truth  of  this  appears 
 
 To  none  but  quick  poetic  eyes, 
 
 I  COULD  not  fold,  up  my  letter,  without  en- 
 clofing  Mr.  Grove*^  ode  on  his  recovery.  Theeafy 
 harmony  of  the  numbers,  and  exalted  piety  of  the 
 fentiments,  Tm  fure,  can*t  fail  of  pleafmg  you. 
 
 On  the  Author  J"  Recovery  out  of  Sicknefs. 
 
 Written  April  1717. 
 
 I. 
 ry"^  HEE,  bounteous  author  of  my  days, 
 JL     Thee,  their  rertorer,  let  me  praife  -, 
 Thee,  gracious  God,  who  from  the  gates  of  deaths 
 "Where  I  in  penfive  filence  fate, 
 Waiting  the  dread  arreft  of  fate. 
 My  foul  didft  fave,  and  fnateh  my  fleeting  breath. 
 
 P  3  IL  My 
 
2T4         LETTERS. 
 
 II. 
 
 ,     My  voice  with  weaknefs  faint  become. 
 And  hollow,  like  the  empty  tomb, 
 Hoarfe,  and  fcarcely  to  be  known  ; 
 Strong,  and  animated  grown. 
 Shall  be  employ'd  to  found  thy  fame: 
 And  while  in  loftier  notes  I  laud  that  name. 
 Which  lately  I  invok'd  with  feeble  cry. 
 Rocks,  hills  and  vales  fhall  to  my  fong  reply. 
 
 III. 
 
 Let  me  remember  too,  with  what  furprize 
 The  fudden  darknefs  veil'd  my  eyes. 
 How  fickly,  and  how  pale  the  light. 
 
 When  death's  impending  fhade, 
 Prefage  of  everlafting  night. 
 
 Had  round  involv'd  my  head! 
 To  heav*n  my  languid  looks  I  turn'd. 
 Nor  long  my  ftate  unpity'd  mourn'd  ; 
 Celeftial  effluence  purg'd  the  gloom  away. 
 And  to  my  fainting  eyes  reftor'd  the  day. 
 Therefore  for  thee,  my  God,  thefe  orbs  fhall  roll. 
 And  to  thy  radiant  feat  Til  dart,  thro'  them,  my  foul. 
 
 I. 
 
 Think,  vain,  fond  heart,  when  on  the  ftcep 
 Of  that  tremendous,  boundlefs  deep, 
 Eternity,  in  fad  fufpence  I  flood. 
 
 How  all  my  trifling  hopes  and  fears. 
 My  fenfelefs  joys,  and  idle  tears, 
 Vanifh'd  at  profpe(5t  of  the  frightful  flood. 
 
 II.  Sure 
 
L  E  T  T  E  R  a^         215 
 II. 
 
 Sure  life  is  but  a  huddled  dream, 
 And  time  a  fwifc,  deceitful  flream, 
 This  vain  world  a  fhining  bubble. 
 Only  full  of  wind  and  trouble  : 
 Yet  this,  great  God,  this  is  the  prize. 
 For  which  deluded  mortals  heav'n  defpife ; 
 Blinded  with  pafTion  after  this  they  run, 
 And  fee  not,  till  they  fee  themfelves  undone. 
 
 III. 
 
 When,  Lord,  thy  hand  the  fable  curtain  drew, 
 And  future  worlds  difclos'd  to  view, 
 Thefe  were  my  thoughts  ;  and  fuch  are  flilJ 
 
 The  lefTons  of  the  grave  •, 
 But  as  the  purple  channels  fill. 
 
 We  gayer  fancies  have  ; 
 The  world  its  former  charms  puts  on, 
 And  we  to  doat  again  are  won. 
 But,  rather  than  this  fliameful  chace  repeat. 
 And  grofsly  fuffer,  having  feen  the  cheat, 
 A  ftranger  let  me  live  to  fatal  eafe, 
 That  greatnefs  may  not  tempt,  wealth  Ihine,  nor 
 '  fiatt'ry  pleafe. 
 
 I. 
 
 Rais'd  from  my  bed,  I'll  higher  rife, 
 And  fpringing  upward,  mate  the  skies. 
 
 Nor  Ihall  this  load  of  flefli  reftrain  my  flight: 
 So,  when  the  eagle's  youth  returns, 
 W^ith  thirft  of  bold  attempts  he  burns, 
 
 EfTays  his  wings,  and  tow'ring,  mocks  the  fight. 
 
 P  4  II.  All 
 
2i6         i.  E  T  T  E  R  S. 
 
 II. 
 
 All  my  paft  follies  be  forgot, 
 
 Loil  in  one  univerfal  bloi : 
 
 From  chis  sera  years  begin 
 
 Happv,  and  unftain'd  with  fin  j 
 
 And  as  if  life  did  now  commence, 
 And  nature's  beauties  now  firfl  ftruck  my  fenfe, 
 Tranfported,  let  me  fmg  from  whom  I  came. 
 Admire  his  works,  and  praife  the  faultlefs  frame.    *     - 
 
 1 
 
 III. 
 
 My  foul,  thou  fource  of  life,  with  health  infpire. 
 
 And  aduate  it  with  thy  fire  ; 
 
 Let  all  its  pow'rs  partake  the  heat, 
 Imparted  by  thy  love  j 
 
 In  all  a  heav'nly  vigour  beat 
 Its  ev'ry  fpring  to  move. 
 
 If  thus  my  body  and  my  mind 
 
 Shall  both  thy  quick'ning  influence  find. 
 
 With  both  thy  glory  I  will  drive  to  raife. 
 
 And  to  thy  fervice  confecrate  my  days  -, 
 
 And  while  this  aims  at  heav*n,  that  bows  to  earth, 
 
 Each  part  will  honour  Thee,  and  own  its  feveral 
 
 birth. 
 
 I. 
 
 Tho'  now  delay'd,  yet  death  will  come. 
 
 By  fate's  inevitable  doom  ; 
 
 When  once  the  deftin'd  period  is  mature. 
 
 No  pray'rs  for  refpite  will  prevail. 
 
 That  mightieft  engine  then  mud  fail. 
 
 And  the  difeafe  we  flight  defpair  of  cure. 
 
 II.  Sun^ 
 
LETTERS.  217 
 
 II. 
 
 Sun^  Jland  thou  ftill^  a  mortal  faid. 
 
 The  mortal's  voice  the  fun  obey'd. 
 
 Sudden  check'd  his  rapid  wheel. 
 
 On  the  brow  of  heaven's  hill. 
 
 To  double  length  he  Itretch'd  that  day: 
 But  then,  impatient  of  his  longer  flay. 
 His  fall  he  hailen'd,  and  withdrew  the  light : 
 So  flopp'd  awhile,  my  fun  mud  fet  in  night. 
 
 III. 
 
 Wifely  the  bleffing  ufe,  thou  mufl  refign  j 
 The  bleffing  will  not  long  be  thine  •, 
 Prepare,  my  foul,  for  thy  remove 
 
 From  this  frail  houfe  of  clay. 
 To  feats  of  fadelefs  blifs  above. 
 
 And  ever-during  day. 
 Death  Ihews  not  there  his  meagre  face. 
 And  grief's  a  fbranger  to  the  place. 
 No  annals  to  record,  as  here,  the  time. 
 The  bled  preferve  ;   but  ever  in  their  prime. 
 Let  countlefs  ages  glide  away  untold. 
 Which  witnefs,  as  they  pafs,  to  joys  that  ne'er  grow 
 old. 
 
 LET- 
 
2i8         LETTERS, 
 
 LETTER     XXVL 
 
 lo  the  Rev.  Mr.  John  Munckley, 
 SIR, 
 
 TH  E  corSidtnct  your  letter  gives  me  of  my 
 *  brother's  happiaefs  is  all  that  can  fupporc 
 me  under  the  difmal  tidings  of  his  death:  I  bore 
 the  lofs  of  my  father  with  much  more  compofure. 
 The  moment  your  letter  came,  1  was  pouring  out 
 all  the  ardor  of  my  foul  before  God,  for  my  bro- 
 ther's life,  or  a  full  aiTurance  of  his  future  happi- 
 r\t{^ :  The  laft  your  letter  brought  me.  But,  oh  [ 
 could  fpending  the  day  in  tears,  or  the  watches  of 
 the  night  in  prayers*,  could  my  own  life  have  ref- 
 cu'd  him  from  the  grave,  I  would  have  given  it. 
 I  believe  he  died  on  the  fame  day  my  father  did  -, 
 and  now  they  are  met  to  part  no  more. 
 
 I  TOLD  my  father,  two  days  before  he  died,  of 
 my  mother's  diftrefs,  and  that  fhe  defir'd  his  pray- 
 ers; on  which  he  lifted  up  his  hands,  and  fixing 
 his  eyesearneftly  toward  heaven,  fpoke  thefe  words: 
 God  Almighty  hlefs  her,  and  her  family  *,  hlejs  them 
 in  their  todies,  and  hlefs  the?n  in  their  fouls.  And, 
 after  a  long  and  filent  paufe,  he  faid  again  *,  God 
 is  faithful^  he  has  bleji  them,  and  they  fhall  be  hleft. 
 
 My  father  left  all  his  eftate  to  me  by  his  will, 
 without  one  legacy  to  any  relation  he  had,  and  on 
 the  outfide  of  his  will  he  fet  down  this  as  his  reafon ; 
 that  he  might  not  ftraiten  me,  nor  hinder  any  kindnefs 
 that  I  Jhould  defign  to  fhew  to  Mr,  Rowe'j  family. 
 This  generous  concern  for  them  has  obliged  me  be- 
 yond all  che  indulgence  of  his  life. 
 
 *  Mr.  IVilliam  Kowe, 
 
 I    AM 
 
LETTERS.  219 
 
 I  AM  afraid  this  afflidion  fits  heavy  on  my  poor 
 fifter :  But  her  brother's  refemblance  to  my  much- 
 lov'd  husband  made  him  dear  to  me  beyond  all  the 
 ties  of  nature,  and  my  grief  knows  no  reafon  or 
 
 limits. 
 
 I  SHALL  exped  you  here,  according  to  your 
 promife.  If  you  are  fo  inhuman  as  to  difappoint 
 me,  it  will  be  the  firft  ill-natur'd  thing  I  ever  knew 
 you  guilty  of;  which  will  vaftly  aggravate  your 
 crime.  I  hope  you  intend  to  make  fome  itay: 
 You  fhall  be  fure  of  a  fincere  welcome  to 
 
 Tour,  &CC. 
 
 P.  S.  The  anguilh  of  my  heart  will  not  fufFer  me 
 to  write  now  to  my  mother. 
 
 LETTER     I. 
 
 ro -/ 
 
 IW  O  U  LD  fain  perfwade  you,  and  flatter  my 
 felf,  that  my  inclinations  to  folitude  are  not  the 
 effea:  of  any  four  aufterity,  or  vain  ambition  of  be- 
 ing thought  wifer  or  better  than  other  people.  I 
 afpire  to  no  charader  above  that  of  a  reafonable 
 creature ;  and  am  content  to  keep  on  a  level  with 
 other  indolent  mortals,  who  are  willing  to  be  quicc 
 and  happy  on  the  moft  eafy  terms  they  can  find. 
 
 'Tis  impoflible  for  me  to  keep  my  mind  in  a 
 proper  fituation  in  the  noife  and  hurry  of  public 
 diverfions.  A  train  of  impertinent  images,  a  fuc- 
 ceffion  of  follies,  runs  thro'  my  imagination.  My 
 head  is  a  perfed  toy-fiiop,  a  Raree-fio'uj  \  nor  can 
 I  poflibly  banifb  from  my  memory  a  feries  of  trou- 
 blefome  ideas  of  things  to  which  I  am  wholly  in- 
 different 
 
220         LETTERS. 
 
 different  whether  they  ever  had  an  exiftence.  But 
 till  the  impreflion  is  a  little  effac'd  by  retirement, 
 thefe  unfeafonable  vanities  will  intrude  on  my  pu- 
 blic and  private  devotions. 
 
 Frequenting  afTemblies  of  pleafure  would  not 
 be  the  way,  as  you  imagine,  to  .reconcile  me  to  a 
 crowd,  unlefs  I  could  find  more  fincerity  pradlis'd 
 there.  People  feem  indeed  to  meet  with  an  obli- 
 ging defign  to  pleafe  and  entertain  one  another, 
 and  you  would  think  the  whole  world  in. a  league  of 
 friend fhip  and  beneficent  offices;  but  as  foon  as  ever 
 they  are  parted,  the  difguife  falls  off",  and  the  latent 
 malignity  breaks  out  in  (lander  or  ridicule.  What- 
 ever pains  has  been  taken  by  every  fingle  perfoa 
 to  recommend  themfelves  by  drefs,  behaviour,  or 
 wit,  not  one  mortal  comes  away  fatisfy'd  with  any 
 thing  but  himfelf.  One  has  been  too  pert,  an- 
 other too  fullen  ;  fome  are  awkward,  others  hide- 
 ous; fome  too  old,  and  others  too  young;  and 
 nothing  in  nature  is  what  it  fhould  be  ;  not  a  beauty 
 or  blemifh  that  efcapes  cenfure  :  So  that  you  would 
 think  mankind  born  in  a  ftate  of  hoffility  with  one 
 another,  and  that  the  end  of  thofe  public  afTem- 
 blies was  to  pry  into  the  faults,  and  expofe  the 
 defeds  of  their  own  fpecies. 
 
 My  letter  is  of  a  decent  length. 
 
 LET- 
 
LETTERS,         221 
 
 LETTER    H. 
 
 To  Mrs.  Arabella  Marrow. 
 
 Madain^ 
 
 T  FIND  'tis  a  hard  thing  for  people  that  are 
 ■■"  quite  out  of  the  world,  to  converfe  with  thofe 
 that  are  in  it.  .  As  I  am  cut  off  from  the  ways  of 
 the  living,  and  feem  'to  cxifl  in  the  ftate  of  de- 
 parted fpirits,  I  know  not  how  to  entertain  my 
 Surviving  friends.  News  from  the  dtad,  I  fancy, 
 woald  not  be  very  agreeable  to  many  of  them  ; 
 efpecially  to  thofe  that  are  very  well  at  eafe  in  a  flate 
 of  mortality,  and  have  all  th-^  gay  part  of  life  before 
 them.  But  ah  !  Madam,  how  foon  will  the  foft 
 deluding  vifion  fly  !  how  fwifrly  v/ill  the  circling 
 years  roll  on,  and  convince  you  of  the  vanity  of 
 all  your  expedacions  from  this  falfe  world  !  You'll 
 think  I  am  very  well  at  leifure,  to  utter  thefe  wife 
 maxims :  1  don't  expedl  you  to  believe  me,  but 
 upon  your  own  experience, 
 
 I  THINK  my  felf  very  happy,  that  I  have  writ 
 any  thing  capable  of  infpiring  fuch  noble  fenti- 
 mcnts  as  thofe  of  devotion  muft  be  in  a  mind  form'd 
 like  Mrs.  Knightlfs.  I  find,  Madam,  you  area 
 little  piqu'd,  that  I  fhould  think  you  have  no  re- 
 lifh  hiM  pour  les  poefies  tendres  &  gnlanies.  Why, 
 to  tell  you  the  truth.  Madam,  I  fancy  people  are 
 never  WL&'br  devout  in  any  remarkable  dceree, 
 till  they' are. married  ;  and  when  once  you  are  en- 
 tred  into  that  fob.r  folemn  ftace,  I  fliall  have  the 
 fame  charity  for  yon,  that  I  have  for  other  people 
 under  thofe  grave  circumftances. 
 
 As  for  ail  the  fine  things  you  fay  of  my  wit  and 
 merit,  rake  it  for  granted  I  fubfcribc  to  th°m  all, 
 and  give  my  full  alfent  to  them,  and  every  thing 
 elfe  that  can  be  fiid  to  my  advantajze.  I  am  ex- 
 tremely 
 
 o 
 
222         LETTERS. 
 
 tremely  fenfible  what  a  lofs  my  retreat  is  to  the 
 world,  and  how  much  a  perfon  of  my  confequence 
 mufl  be  mifs'd  in  it.  I  am  afraid  the  grafs  will 
 cover  the  circle  in  Hyde-park^  if  I  Ihould  not  make 
 my  appearance  there ;  and  if  a  tender  defpair  had 
 not  turn'd  me  favage,  I  fhould  certainly  have  more 
 compaflion  for  mankind,  than  to  hide  fo  much 
 merit  in  the  country  fhades.  But  where-ever  I  am, 
 fuch  worth  as  yours  will  ftill  pofTefs  the  efteemof 
 
 Tour^  &c* 
 
 LETTER    IIL 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Mad  amy 
 
 T  H  O  P  E  this  letter  will  find  you  in  fome  inter- 
 •*■  val  of  perfed:  leifure,  or  elfe  I  cannot  expedl 
 your  forgivenefs  for  fo  much  wilful  and  deliberate 
 impertinence.  My  thoughts  are  in  fuch  a  roman- 
 tic fituation  in  this  place,  that  I  am  half  convinc'd 
 that  every  thing  I  fee  here  is  enchantment.  I  ne- 
 ver venture  out  of  my  own  apartment,  with  any 
 fecurity  of  returning  to  it  again,  but  lofe  myfelf  in 
 verdant  labyrinths  and  fiowery  mazes ;  and  am 
 often  reduc'd  to  enquire  of  thb  firfl  intelligent  be- 
 ing that  I  meet,  which  is  the  way  into  my  Lord 
 
 • 's  houfe.     But  'tis  my  confolation,  that  this 
 
 gay  confufion  of  mind  is  not  peculiar  to  myfelf; 
 for  I  can  aflure  you  there  are  not  two  people  in  the 
 family  that  are  yet  agreed  to  call  any  one  thing 
 befides  the  mount,  by  the  fime  name.  What  one 
 reafonable  creature  thinks  fit  to  call  a  parterre,  an- 
 other, with  a  true  poetical  licence,  calls  a  wilder- 
 
 nefs ; 
 
LETTERS.         223 
 
 nefs ;  that  which  one,  without  the  leaft  hefitation, 
 terms  a  green  and  open  fquare,  another,  with  full 
 alTurance,  affirms  to  be  a  clofe  impenetrable  fhade, 
 a  retreat  from  the  noon-day  fun,  Amidll  thiscon- 
 fufion  of  languages,  'tis  a  great  delight  to  me  to 
 find  every  body  in  as  vifionary  a  difpofition  as 
 myfelf.  Whether  we  are  got  into  fairy  land,  or 
 if  'tis  the  nature  of  this  climate  that  has  luU'd  us 
 all  into  a  golden  dream,  is  very  uncertain  ;  but 
 for  my  part,  I  am  fo  pleas'd  with  the  place  and 
 company,  that  I  am  willing  to  indulge  the  charm- 
 ing madnefs,  without  envying  the  mod  fedate  rea- 
 foner  on  earth.  But  whether  you'll  take  my  word, 
 or  not,  'tis  certain  I  am  in  my  right  fenfes,  when 
 I  fubfcribe  myfelf 
 
 Tour,  &c. 
 
 LETTER     IV. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 Madam  ^ 
 
 X  THINK  myfelf  very  happy  in  your  good  opi- 
 "*■  nion  ;  but  tho'  I  do  the  utmoft  juftice  to  my  own 
 meritjl  can't  flatter  myfelf  that  I  deferve  yourefteem. 
 
 . .  This  fentence  looks  as  if  it  was  borrow'd  out 
 
 of  the  Academy  of  Complments  i  but,  without  vanity, 
 I  can  affure  you  'cis  my  own. 
 
 The  news  of  your  ill  nefs  is  a  very  fenfible  af- 
 flidlion  to  me ;  I  find  my  letters  are  not  the  only 
 Mementoes  you  have  of  mortality.  With  regard' 
 to  yourfelf,  1  think  it  could  be  no  great  difadvan- 
 tage  to  you  to  quit  the  world  fo  early.  To  die  in 
 the  pride  of  life,  and  in  all  the  fplendor  of  youth- 
 ful virtue,  has  fomeching  more  glorious  in  it  than 
 
 to 
 
224         LETTERS. 
 
 to  languiHi  out  the  dregs  of  life,  in  the  exercife  of 
 no  virtue  but  patience.  But  as  you  have  all  the 
 gay  part  of  life  before  you,  and  have  fome  foft 
 engagements  to  this  world,  I  am  not  furpriz'd  at 
 the  reludlance  you  find  to  make  fuch  an  early  exit. 
 
 You  would  think  me  too  refign'd  in  parting  with 
 my  friends,  if  I  fhould  tell  you,  it  is  not  wortli 
 your  while  to  make  a  farther  trial  of  any  earthly 
 enjoyment :  However  your  own  experience  will  be 
 the  flrongeil  convidion,  and  a  few  circling  years 
 will  give  you  a  full  demonftration  of  the  vanity  of 
 all  your  gay  expedations  from  this  falfe  world.  In- 
 deed I  would  have  you  difappointed,  and  can't  wifh 
 you  perfedlly  happy  and  at  reft  here ;  not  from  any 
 ill-will  or  malignity  in  my  temper,  but  for  fear  it 
 Ihould  ftop  your  purfuic  after  more  lading  and  fu- 
 perior  joys. 
 
 If  I  appear  more  ftoical  than  I  ought  on  this 
 occafion,  'tis  becaufe  I  apprehend  you  are  in  no 
 danger  -,  and  I  hope  to  leave  you  long  behind  me, 
 poflefb  of  as  much  happinefs  as  dreams  and  fliadows 
 can  give  you. 
 
 Adieu, 
 
 L  E  T  T  E  Pv    V. 
 
 Tg  the  fa?ne. 
 
 Madam  y 
 
 T  A  M  extremely  oblig'd  to  you,  for  the  account 
 ■*•  of  your  travels.  A  view  of  thofe  fine  profpecls, 
 in  your  dcfcripti  ..n,  is  much  more  agreeable  to  my 
 temper,  than  being  at  the  pains  of  feeing  them 
 any  other  way  ;  while  I  a:n  perfv/aded  your  images 
 
 of 
 
LETTERS.         225 
 
 of  them  are  more  beautiful  and  entertaining  than 
 the  things  you  deferibe. 
 
 My  Lady has  given  me  an  account  of 
 
 Mr. 's  death.     She  fpeaks  of  it  in  a  manner 
 
 that  gives  me  the  higheft  efteem  for  her  virtue,  and 
 the  humanity  of  her  temper.     Indeed  I  never  re- 
 ceive a  letter  from  her,  but  what  raifes  my  opi- 
 nion of  her  fenfe  and  merit.     To  make  fuch  juil 
 reflexions  on  life  and  its  vanities,  in  the  pride  of 
 youth,  and  gayeft  circumftance  of  fortune,  is  very 
 uncommon :  But  nothing  gives  me  a  greater  opi- 
 nion of  her  wit,  and  the  elegance  of  her  tafte,  th.n 
 the  value  fhe  has  for  your  converfation.  You  know 
 I  am  very  fincere ;  and  as  I  have  no  dependa^  ce, 
 I  am  paft  all  ceremony  with  the  world.    Since  Mr. 
 Rowers  death,  I  have  had  neither  hopes  nor  fears ; 
 but  am  in  a  (late  of  abfolute  indifference  with  re- 
 gard to  this  world.     I  have  eafe  and  plenty  to  the 
 extent  of  my  widies,  and  can  form  no  defires  bac 
 what  my  father's  indulgence  would  procure  ;  and 
 I  have  nothing  to  afl^  of  Heaven  beyond  t  >e  good 
 old  man's  life.     The  perfed  fandtity  of  his  cbara- 
 der,    with  the  benevolence  of  his  temper,  makes 
 him  a  refuge  to  the  widow  and  fatherlefs.     The 
 people  follow  him  with  their  bleffings  and  prayers, 
 when  he  goes  abroad  •,  which  he  feldom  does,  bnt 
 with  a  defign  to  reconcile  fome  difference,  or  to 
 right  the  injured  and  oppreft.  The  reft  of  his  hours 
 are  entirely  fpent  in  his  private  devotion,  or  books, 
 which  are  his  only  diverfions.     But  I  forget  my- 
 felf,  and  acknowledge,  it  would  be  more  a-propos 
 to  entertain  you  with  the  charms  of  fome  hand  fome 
 young  fellow,  or  the  drefs  and  equipage  of  a  beau, 
 than  with  the  moral  virtues  and  temperance  of  her- 
 mits and  philofophers. 
 
 L^^PY  .  tells  me  you  are  in  a  conftant 
 
 hurry  of  company  in  fVarwkkJhire,     I  fuppofe  you 
 
 do  not  know  that  you  deferve  my  compaffion  •,  but 
 
 Vol.  U.  CL  ^^^"'^ 
 
226         LETTERS. 
 
 I  can't  help  bellowing  it  upon  you.  With  all  the 
 graces  of  your  perfon,  the  charms  of  your  wit  and 
 addrefs,  or  all  befides  that  mortality  can  boaft,  I 
 would  not  be  in  your  circumftances.     O  rather 
 
 Bear  me^  [ome  Gody  to  Haemus'  dewy  topy 
 
 or  to  mouniAtlaSy  or  to  the  wilds  o^  Africa y  or  any 
 other  ravage  wildernefs  on  earth !  O  bear  me 
 
 Far  from  the  noify  follies  of  the  greats 
 The  tirefome  farce  of  ceremonious  ft  ate  y 
 Far  from  the  thoughtlefs  croivdy  who  laugh y  and 
 
 playy 
 And  dance y  and  fingy  impertinently  gay^ 
 Their  fborty  ineftimahle  hours  away  I 
 
 In  the  humour  I  am  now  indulging,  you  will 
 certainly  think  a  defart  the  moil  proper  place  for 
 
 Toury  &c. 
 
 LETTER     VI. 
 
 To  Mrs.  ■ . 
 
 M 
 
 Madamy 
 Y  fatisf;i6lion3  In  this  world  are  confinM  to 
 very  narrow  limits*,  and  as  your  letters  and 
 elTays  are  among  thofe  few  entertainments,  I  can't 
 but  complain  that  you  will  not  lee  me  fee  the  paper 
 you  promis'd  to  fend. 
 
 The  melancholy  account  you  gave  in  your  laft 
 letter,  of  the  ill  ftate  of  your  health,  gives  me  a 
 great  foiicitude  for  you  j   tho'  I  am  convinc'd  it 
 
 yields 
 
LETTERS.         227 
 
 yields  you  a  ferene  and  pleafant  profpe^b*  I  never 
 recal  your  retir'd  converfation  in  fome  of  the  charm- 
 ing walks  ac ,  without  fancying  myfelf  in 
 
 that  moment  wifer  and  happier  than  betore  ;  but  I 
 dare  not  promife  myfelf  a  return  of  thofe  fatis- 
 fadlions  till  we  meet  in  the  ever-blooming  fields  of 
 paradife. 
 
 *— -  The  blifsful  plains. 
 Where  pleafure  in  its  gayefi  triumph  reigfts, 
 Joys  ever-young,  unmix* d  with  pain  or  fear. 
 Fill  the  wide  circle  of  th*  eternal  year. 
 Stern  winter  /miles  on  that  aufpicions  climej 
 The  fields  are  florid  with  U7ifading  prime. 
 From  the  bleak  pole  no  winds  inclement  blow. 
 Mold  the  round  hail,  or  flake  the  fleecy  fnow  * 
 But  from  the  breezy  deep  the  bleft  inhale 
 The  fragrant  murmurs  of  the  wefiern  gale* 
 The  firmament  with  living  fplendors  glows^ 
 And  on  immortal  thrones  the  bleft  repofe. 
 
 This  defcription  I  borrow'd  from  Mr.  Pope  %  and 
 this  gay  fcheme  is  I  believe  fuited  to  your  tafte^ 
 tho'  I  am  afraid  it  would  not  be  at  all  agreeable 
 
 to  the  reverend  Mr 's  fagacity  ;  to  whom  I  beg 
 
 you  will  give  my  fervice.  I  confefs  thefe  flowery 
 fcenes  feem  to  be  the  lead  circumftances  of  immor- 
 tal blifs.  But  in  what  its  greateft  elevation  confifts^ 
 never  cnter'd  into  the  heart  of  man  to  conceive. 
 
 Make  hafte,  ye  lingering  hours^ 
 To  bring  the  promij*djoy! 
 
 There  is  no  fpell  confines  me  to  this  place,  but 
 the  brevity  of  human  life  ;  which  would  have  made 
 me  content,  on  whatever  fpot  of  earth  deftiny  had 
 dropt  mc,     I  could  never  have  been  plac'd  in  a 
 
 Q^  2  more 
 
228         LETTERS. 
 
 more  vacant  fituatian^  without  any  thing  to  pleafe, 
 OF  n  oleil  me  -,  which  in  the  conclufion  of  life  is  a 
 great  advantage.  My  principal  concern  is  now, 
 that  I  may  pafs  the  fual  darknels  without  confter- 
 nation. 
 
 I  AM  ignorant  whether  heavenly  or  earthly  love 
 is  at  prefent  your  governing  pafiion  *,  if  the  laft, 
 this  grave  fubject  may  perhaps  come  unfeafonably, 
 and  the  long  life  of  the  happy  antediluvians  might 
 have  been  a  more  agreeable  theme. 
 
 I  am,  Sec 
 
 L  E  T  T  E  P.     VII. 
 
 To  Mrs.  — . 
 
 XrOU  obferve  very  juftly,  religion  does  inflru(ft 
 -*-  mankind  to  adl  a  becoming  part  in  every  pe- 
 riod of  human  life  •,  but  rtill  piety  looks  like  a  re- 
 treat for  declining  years,  and  people  feem  to  be  re- 
 ducM  to  it  as  a  fancluary  j  goodnefs  then  has  an 
 air  of  neceffity,  and  does  not  appear  half  fc^  free 
 and  voluntary  as  in  the  bloom  of  life.  And  this. 
 Madam,  is  the  happy  leafon  you  have  chofen  to 
 recommend  the  flicred  didates  of  Chriftianity,  while 
 the  fpiriu  and  gracefulncfs  of  youth  lets  off  every 
 virtue.  Be  it  eafy  or  feverc,  'tis  fbill  becoming, 
 and  attracts  the  fpeclators  love  and  imitation  *,  it 
 ftrikes  the  fenfes  as  well  as  tlie  foul.  The  heavenly 
 flame  mingles  with  the  luibe  of  the  eyes,  and 
 m;ikes  itfelf  vifible  in  the  vivacity  of  a  youthful 
 face.  The  fan6lity  of  thought  reveals  itfelf  in  the 
 modefl  afpecfi:,  the  guiltlefs  and  unaffected  fmile. 
 The  mind,  confcious  of  nothing  but  good-will  and 
 •gtntle  difpofitions,  gives  the  fignal  of  its  beneficence 
 
 by 
 
LETTERS.  229 
 
 by  a  thoufand  naraelefs  graces  peculiar  to  the  ad- 
 vantage of  youth  and  blooming  life. 
 
 I  HAVE  made  your  compliments  to  Mrs. — ,  and 
 obey'd  your  commands  in  recommending  Bifhop 
 Hopkim*^  fermons  to  her  ;  but  to  no  more  purpofe, 
 than  if  I  had  perfwaded  her  to  perufe  a  treatife  of  na- 
 vigation. She  thinks  it  a  greater  toil  to  read  twenty 
 fermons,  than  Alexander  would  have  had  to  con- 
 quer twenty  worlds,  if  he  had  known  where  to  find 
 them.  A  folio  of  divinity  is  certainly  a  dead  weight 
 in  a  fine  lady's  hands,  and  much  more  heavy  and 
 unmanageable  than  Clelia^  or  any  other  romance 
 of  the  fame  bulk. 
 
 /  ajn^  Sec, 
 
 •  fJ    •^    V*'    ir^    •iA?    ^^    '■>^    "L^    *'^    *L^    1f*^    V*'    1^    "j^     *if^ 
 
 LETTER     VIIL 
 
 To  the  Revd.  Mr.  Tho.  Amory. 
 
 Dec,  10. 
 
 T  T  would  be  putting  you  on  an  exploit  of  per- 
 -^  fe6l  knight-errantry,  to  defire  you  to  take  a 
 journey  hither  in  this  unpleafant  feafon.  You  wouM 
 find  occafion  to  equip  yourfelf  with  Mamhrind'^  hel- 
 met, to  defend  your  head  from  the  inclemency  of 
 the  wintry  Ikies.  As  for  Mr.  Grove^  if  he  Ihould 
 come  on,  victorious  over  all  the  giants  and  en- 
 chanted caftles  on  the  road  •,  if  it  fliould  happen  to 
 fnow  while  he  was  here,  he  would  fancy  himfelf  in 
 Lapland^  and  abhor  this  place  for  ever.  I  am  fo 
 fmcerely  pleas'd  with  Mr.  Grovel  company,  that 
 I  would  never  defire  it,  till  I  thought  every  cir^ 
 cumftance  would  concur  to  pleafe  the  delicacy  of 
 his  imagination,  on  which  I  know  the  weather  has 
 
 Q^  3  fome 
 
23©         LETTERS. 
 
 fome  influence.  I  would  never  invite  him,  but 
 when  the  fun  fmiles  on  the  gay  creation, 
 
 Rejlores  their  leafy  honours  to  the  woodsy 
 Flowers  to  the  batiks,  and  freedom  to  the  floods ; 
 JVhile  birdi  on  branches  perched,  or  on  the  wing^ 
 At  nature'' s  joyful  refl oration  fing. 
 
 For  this,  and  two  or  three  other  wife  reafons,  I  am 
 willing  to  deny  myfelf  the  happinefs  of  your  com- 
 pany till  a  month  or  two  after  Chriftmas, 
 
 I  FiNp  I  have  your  leave  to  make  my  exit, 
 and  commence  immortality  as  foon  as  I  pleafe,  on 
 condition  I'll  ftudy  divinity  in  the  fields  of  light, 
 and  come  back  again  to  fright  people  out  of  their 
 wits,  and  anfwer  cafes  of  confcience :  But  I  am 
 afraid  my  improvements  will  not  be  great  this  way. 
 I  am  for  the  myrtle  fhades  and  rofy  bowers  ;  and 
 if  a  filver  lute  and  a  celeftial  fong  will  entertain 
 you,  ril  certainly  oblige  you,  if  it  is  in  my  power, 
 with  fuch  melting  ftrains  as  ^ngels  fing  to  dying 
 fiints,  when  they  would  give  them  a  tafte  of  cele- 
 ftial joys, 
 
 Such  notes  as  echo  thro*  the  Uifsful  grove s^ 
 When  they  defcribe  their  own  immortal  loves, 
 
 ft 
 
 LETTER     IX, 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 S  I  R, 
 
 I  HAVE  been  reading  all  this  morning  of  the 
 -    fun,  and  liars,  and  comets ;  but  I  can't  be  fo  vain 
 ;q  tell  you  I  underftood  perfedly  one  line  that  I  read  : 
 *  Yet 
 
LETTERS.         231 
 
 Yet  the  fubjedl  has  given  a  fort  of  elevation  to  my 
 thoughts,  and  put  them  in  fuch  a  kind  of  dazzling 
 confufion,  that  I'm  afraid  you'll  wi(h  I  had  wnc 
 to  you  when  my  genius  had  been  lefs  exalted,  and 
 more  turn'd  to  earthly  objeds.  But  you  may  be 
 out  of  pain,  for  I  find  converfing  with  mortal 
 things  has  a  pernicious  influence  •,  I  am  already  de- 
 fcended,  and  have  bid  the  ftarry  regions  adieu. 
 Without  raillery,  'tis  too  true,  that  the  mind  does 
 not  long  keep  its  heavenly,  which  is  indeed  its 
 proper  fituation,  and  where  alone  it  can  find  reft. 
 
 I  SPENT  a  few  days  fince  you  was  here  atZow^- 
 leate  %  but  tho'  the  gardens  were  in  their  perfedl 
 order  and  beauty,  and  look'd  likeparadife  reftor'd, 
 I  found  greater  charms  in  obfcurity  and  folitude ; 
 which  I  think  I  ihould  prefer  to  a  public  life,  if 
 'twas  on  no  other  view  than  as  a  fanftuary  from 
 the  cenfure  of  the  world,  and  to  be  difengag'd  from 
 its  interefts  and  paflions.  An  unenvy'd  retirement, 
 without  ftanding  a  competitor  for  any  of  the  ad- 
 vantages that  the  reft  of  mankind  purfue,  feems  to 
 
 be  the  near^ft  way  to  peace  and  happinefs. j— 
 
 Like  Sancho  in  Don  John^  I  can't  reafon  long  with- 
 out interruption. 
 
 I  am^  &c. 
 
 LETTER     X. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 SIR, 
 
 O  U  have  addreft  me  with  as  much  folemnity, 
 as  if  I  had  been  in  holy  orders.  You  cer- 
 tainly fancy'd  yourfelf  writing  to  Mrs.  Drummond ; 
 while  you  know  I  am  fo  far  from  affuming  thofc 
 
 0^4         ^^ ^  fuperior 
 
232         LETTERS. 
 
 fuperior  airs,  that  I  have  hardly  the  confidence  to 
 put  myfelf  in  the  clalsof  reafonable  creatures.  All 
 the  pre-eminence  I  pretend  to,  is,  that  I  came  into 
 the  world  before  you ;  and,  according  to  the  pro- 
 priety of  time  and  a(5lion,  hope  to  leave  it  firft, 
 ^nd  commence  the  dignity  of  a  celeftial  fpirit  •,  while 
 you  are  left  below,  a  fober  plodding  mortal,  blef- 
 fing  yourfelf  in  the  felicity  of  a  prudent  wife,  and 
 a  houfe  full  of  pretty,  tradable  children. 
 
 Your  verfes  contain  excellent  rules  for  happi- 
 nefs  ;  but  you  find  they  had  not  their  juft  efFed  on 
 your  fair  difciple.  One  would  really  think  man- 
 kind under  fome  fatal  enchantment,  that  they  are 
 refolv'd  never  to  be  happy  by  rule  or  method  j 
 while,  as  Mr.  Grove  fays, 
 
 Heaven  warns  us  of  the  dangerous  road^ 
 
 And  would  our  Jleps  recal ; 
 But  we  muft  tread^  where  crouds  have  trod^ 
 
 And  where  they  fell ^  wefalK 
 
 Mr.  Pope  fays  juftly  enough,  in  his  letters,  that 
 half  the  things  that  employ  our  heads  deferve  not 
 the  name  of  thought  •,    they  are   rather  ilronger 
 
 dreams,  impreflions  on  the  imagination. But 
 
 I  have  no  inclination  to  be  fevere  on  human  nature, 
 and  have  flill  the  modefty  to  put  myfelf  in  the  loweil 
 rank  among  intelledual  beings,  and  pretend  to  no 
 right  to  cenfure  or  dictate. 
 
 I  AM  impatient  to  fee  your  fermon ;  the  *  title 
 has  already  byafs'd  me  in  its  favour.  I  always  have 
 thought  you  warm  in  the  caufe  of  Chriftianity ;  and 
 for  your  peculiar  notions  I  am  fo  far  from  blaming 
 your  franknefs  and  fincerity,  that  it  appears  to  me 
 ^  beauty  in  your  charader. 
 
 *  Chr'ifl  the  Light  of  thelVorU:  Or,  The  principal  Improvements 
 ptxde  ia  Religion  by  Chrijlimity,  A  Seruion  preached  at  Exon, 
 Sept.  1 1.  1735'. 
 
 Before 
 
LETTERS.  233 
 
 BEFORE  I  had  finifh'd  my  letter,  your  fermon 
 came  to  my  hands ;  which  I  have  read  with  great 
 fatisfa6lion  •,  and  from  an  implicit  believer,  it  has 
 half  made  me  a  rcafonable  one ;  which  you  will 
 think  is  a  furprizing  attainment  for 
 
 LETTER     XL 
 
 To  Mr.  . 
 
 Y 
 
 SIR, 
 
 OU  are  too  partial  to  my  writings  of  any 
 
 kind,  and  I  am  afraid  my  letters  will  foon 
 convince  you  how  much  you  have  deceiv'd  your- 
 CtW  in  the  value  you  feem  to  fet  on  my  correfpond- 
 ence.  My  way  of  life  is  fo  retir'd,  that  I  am  igno- 
 rant of  every  thing  that  pafles  in  the  bufy  world, 
 and  can  inform  my  friends  of  no  events  nor  changes, 
 but  what  occur  in  the  rural  fcenes  and  the  variety 
 of  nature.  If  I  live  till  Dece?nber,  I  may  be  able 
 to  inform  you  that  the  waters  are  turn'd  to  ice ;  or 
 in  Jpril,  that  the  ground  is  cover'd  with  cowflips 
 and  daifies :  But  I  am  not  pofitive  that  this  impor- 
 tant intelligence  will  very  much  improve  or  divert 
 you. 
 
 Persons  of  the  greateft  merit  are  generally  moft 
 diffident  of  themfelves.  There  can  be  no  other  rea- 
 fon  for  your  anxiety  in  writing  to  me.  Criticifm 
 is  not  my  talent,  nor  inclination ;  and  I  am  pleas'd 
 that  you  remember  any  part  of  my  converfation, 
 that  had  a  tendency  to  clear  me  from  the  imputa- 
 tion of  fuch  a  difagreeable  charadler.  The  beau- 
 ties of  temper  and  action  in  human  life  delight  and 
 
 charm 
 
234         LETTERS. 
 
 charm  me;  while  its  blemifhes  give  me  a  very 
 mortifying  profpedl,  efpecially  when  I  confider 
 myfelf  liable  to  the  fame  follies. 
 
 Your  commands  to  me  to  write  a  long  letter 
 are  very  obliging*,  but  'tis  a  happinefs  for  you, 
 as  well  as  the  reft  of  my  correfpondents,  that  my 
 impertinence  is  limited  by  the  fize  of  my  paper  to 
 pretty  narrow  bounds ;  and  that  'tis  as  great  a  fa- 
 tigue to  me  to  write  a  long  letter,  as  it  would 
 be  to  you  to  read  it. 
 
 /  anty  &c. 
 
 fo^  irX  (?o«  i^  iCom  ifot  ifot  tc 
 
 LETTER     XII. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 IH  A  V  E  inclination  to  write  to  you,  and  yet 
 I  could  not  have  chofen  a  more  unlucky  inter- 
 val. My  head  feems  perfectly  vacant,  without 
 either  bright  or  gloomy  ideas,  void  of  hopes  or 
 fears.  This  feems  to  be  an  unhappy,  and  is  per- 
 haps a  criminal  infenfibility  ;  and  I  often  lament  it 
 as  one  of  the  miferies  of  mortality,  that  the  mind 
 can  remain  in  fuch  an  indolence,  in  the  view  of 
 things  of  eternal  confequence,  unmov'd  at  the  un- 
 certainty of  future  happinefs,  or.mifery  ;  while  the 
 important  hour  is  advancing,  that  muft  decide  this 
 grand  event. 
 
 I  HOPE  you  are  before  this  perfedly  recovered 
 from  your  indifpofition.     I  have  a  real  fympathy 
 
 with  Mrs. ,    for  the  concern  your  diforder 
 
 muft  give  her;  tho',  with  regard  to  yourfelf,  death 
 can  have  nothing  threatening  or  gloomy ;  and  fuch 
 early  piety  as  yours  generally  makes  a  graceful 
 
 exit. 
 
LETTERS.  235 
 
 exit,  whatever  lofs  the  public  fuffers  by  it.  But 
 I  hope  your  life  will  long  be  continu'd  an  example 
 of  virtue  to  an  impious  age. 
 
 You  have  favour'd  me  with  the  moft  agreeable 
 employment  in  the  world,  to  convey  your  gene- 
 
 rofity  to  Mr. .  There  is  an  exquifite  pleafure  in 
 
 foftening  the  cares  and  fupplying  the  necefTities  of 
 a  perfon  of  merit  ;  and  Hill  the  joy  is  heighten'd 
 in  raifinc^  a  thought  of  gratitude,  in  a  pious  mind 
 to  the  Supreme  Bcnefadlor :  Nor  can  I  help  asking 
 with  a  tender  furprize,  why  am  I  free  and  indepen- 
 dent, while  one  of  fo  much  greater  virtue  is  ftrait- 
 en'd  and  deprefs'd  ? 
 
 But  who  Jhall  ask  th' Eternal  Ruler ^  why 
 His  favours  thus  unmerited  are  placed  ? 
 
 Mrs. 's  invitation  and  care  for  my  recep- 
 tion is  exceeding  obliging  •,  but  nothing  is  more 
 uncertain  than  my  being  in  town.  I  have  fuch  an 
 averfion  to  every  thing  that  looks  like  fatigue,  and 
 find  in  myfelf  fuch  a  propenfity  to  indulge  the  tran- 
 quility of  my  temper;  that  'tis  a  thoufand  to  one 
 if  I  ftir  from  the  place  where  I  am. 
 
 A  THOUSAND  bleffings  attend  you! 
 
 I  amy  &CC* 
 
 LETTER 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 SIR, 
 
 IH  A'VE  felt  your  affliction  with  all  the  tender- 
 nefs  and  fympathy  otrriendfhip,  and  arneqjd'ly 
 affed^d  with  joy  ac  the  news  of  Mrs. 's  reco- 
 very 
 
236 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 very.  I  hope  flie  will  long  be  a  blefTing  to  you, 
 and  a  bright  example  of  virtue  in  this  diflblute  age ; 
 where  diverfion  and  a  giddy  round  of  amufement, 
 feem  to  banirti  every  thing  that  is  ferious  or  ra- 
 tional. But  fatire  is  not  my  talent.  I  am  confcious 
 of  too  many  follies  of  my  own,  to  fet  up  for  a  cen- 
 furer  of  the  manners  of  the  age.  However,  I  can't 
 fay  you  have  flrain'd  your  charity,  in  believing 
 that  I  had  rather  hear  the  mufic  of  the  fpheres,  than 
 Farinelli'^  Cantato^s ;  and  that,  of  the  two,  I  had 
 rather  be  among  the  angels,  than  crowded  with 
 the  peers  and  peercfTes  of  Great  Britain^  admiring 
 Mrs.  Porter'* s  graceful  adtion. 
 
 'Tis  not  a  very  eafy  tranfition  from  Mrs.  Porter 
 to  Dr.  Watts ;  but  I  am  fincerely  glad  of  his  reco- 
 very •,    but  my  tranquility  will  not   be  complete, 
 
 till  I  hear  from  you  that  Mrs. is  pad  danger 
 
 of  a  relapfe,  and  confirm'd  in  her  health. 
 
 May  blooming  health  ftill  fmile  upon  her  face ^ 
 And  all  the  joys  that  [acred  virtue  gives^ 
 Brighten  her  mindy  and  crown  her  future  years. 
 
 You  need  not  make  an  excufe  for  fending  a 
 fpeedy  anfwer  to  any  of  my  letters  •,  it  will  always 
 be  an  oblisation.  Whatever  liberties  1  take,  I 
 would  not  corrupt  other  people  by  the  example  of 
 my  indolence. 
 
 I  FIND  I  have  a  little  crampt  my  genius,  for 
 want  of  room  ;  but  next  time  yoii  fliall  have  more 
 white  paper,  if  nothing  elfe. 
 
 LET- 
 
LETTERS.         237 
 
 LETTER    XIV. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 YOUR  good  opinion,  inftead  of  raifing  my 
 vanity,  gives  me  a  fecrec  confufion  *,  while  I 
 rcfled  how  little  I  deferve  it.  Were  my  mind  in 
 that  fuperior  fituation  you  imagine,  I  fhould  be 
 very  happy;  but  your  letter  (in  the  moft  polite 
 manner)  rather  tells  me  what  I  ought  to  be,  than 
 what  I  really  am  ;  and  I  hope  I  fliall  make  that  ufc 
 of  it:  Tho',  as  Dr.  PFatts  fays,  pride,  that  adive 
 iniquity,  is  never  at  reft ;  whether  I  have  to  do 
 with  God  or  man,  it  befets  me  on  every  fide. 
 
 However  agreeable  a  retir'd  life  may  be  to 
 your  tafte,  a  perfon  of  your  good  fenfe  and  piety 
 will  be  more  profitable  to  the  public  by  an  adivc 
 life.  Examples  of  truth  and  juftice  are  too  rare,  to 
 wifh  them  conceal'd  in  an  idle  retirement. 
 
 Be  pleas'd  to  make  my  compliments  to  Mrs. 
 
 • ,  and  tell  her  my  being  in  town  is  uncertain ; 
 
 but  if  I  am,  and  have  power  to  follow  my  incli- 
 nations, I  (hall  fpend  fome  part  of  my  time  with 
 her :  Sqme  gentle  and  friendly  impulfe  flatters  mc 
 with  a  great  deal  of  pleafure  in  her  converfation. 
 But  I  would  forbid  myfelf  expelling  any  perfe(5l 
 enjoyment  either  from  fociety  or  folitude.  At  a 
 diftance,  the  fylvan  fhades  feem  to  be  the  refidence 
 of  innocence  and  peace  ;  but  in  this  degenerate 
 ftate,  guilt  and  folly  will  intrude  on  the  moft  re- 
 tir'd manner  of  life.  And  yet  I  muft  own,  if  there 
 is  any  happinefs  below  the  ftars,  it  confifts  in  a 
 freedom  from  the  hurry  and  cenfure  of  the  world, 
 where  the  mind  may  devote  all  its  bright  and  ferene 
 intervals  to  Heaven, 
 
 How 
 
238         LETTERS. 
 
 How  happy  is  the  holy  hermit'* s  lot ! 
 
 ^he  world  forgetting^  by  the  world  forgot. 
 
 Eternal  fun-Jbine  of  the  fpotlefs  mind  I 
 
 Each  prayer  accepted^  and  each  wifh  refigrCd ; 
 
 Defires  compos"* d^  affections  ever  ev*n^ 
 
 *Tears  that  delight ^  and  fighs  that  waft  to  heav*n, 
 
 O  grace  divine  !  0  virtue  heavenly  fair  ! 
 Divine  oblivion  of  low-thoughted  care  ! 
 Frefh-bloomijjg  hope^  gay  daughter  of  the  sky  ! 
 And  faith^  our  early  immortality  I 
 Enter  each  mild^  each  amicable  gueft: 
 Receive  and  wrap  me  in  eternal  refl !  , 
 
 These  lines  are  borrow'd  from  Mr.  Pope^  and 
 I  wi(h  I  was  fenfible  of  their  energy,  while  I  repeat 
 them  ;  but  I  am  afraid  thefe  thoughts  are  rather 
 flights  of  poetry,  than  devotion. 
 
 You  need  not  excufe  your  want  of  method ; 
 your  fine  turn  of  thought,  and  eafy  manner  of  ex- 
 prefTion,  is  vaftly  preferable  to  all  the  pedantry  of 
 rules. 
 
 I  a7n^  &c. 
 
 • 
 
 LETTER    XV. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 npHE  news  your  letter  brought  meofyourfafc 
 •■"    return  to  your  family  gave  me  a  fincere  fatif- 
 
 fadion,  both  on  your  own  account  and  Mrs 's, 
 
 whom  I  often  remember'd  with  anxiety  and  com- 
 panion, 
 
 4 
 
LETTERS.         239 
 
 paflion,  confidering  how  the  roads  were  infefted 
 with  robbers.  I  look  on  your  fafety  as  the  pecu- 
 liar care  of  providence. 
 
 *T  I  s  a  fort  of  mortification  to  me,  to  delay 
 writing  to  you  a  few  polls ,  but  I  am  unwilling 
 you  fhould  command  too  much  of  my  attention  ; 
 for  after  I  have  writ,  I  am  impatient  for  an  an- 
 fwcr.  Your  friendlhip  feems  to  make  a  part  of  my 
 happinefs ;  but  'tis  a  happinefs  fo  refin'd,  that  I 
 hope  it  will  be  immortal.  However,  I  muft  hum- 
 ble your  vanity  fo  far,  as  to  let  you  know,  I  am 
 talking  the  fame  language  to  Mrs.——,  that  I  am 
 didlating  to  you.  Be  pleas'd  to  prefent  her  with 
 my  acknowledgments  for  the  pleafure  her  fociety 
 gave  me:  I  am  perfe(5lly  charm'd  with  her  cha- 
 rade r. 
 
 May  Heaven  affent  to  your  pious  wiflies  for 
 me ;  and  grant  that  I,  the  leafb  of  all  faints,  may 
 at  the  laft  fummons  fpring  triumphant  from  my 
 dufty  bed,  and  be  numbered  with  the  glittering 
 aflembly. 
 
 nere  let  me  vie  with  all  the  hofly 
 
 In  duty  and  in  blifs  ; 
 While  lefs  than  nothing  I  [hall  hoafiy 
 
 And  vanity  confefs. 
 
 Dr.  Watts. 
 
 This  ought  always  to  be  in  my  view,  and  if 
 you  knew  the  natural  vanity  of  my  temper,  you 
 WouJd  not  fay  fo  many  things  that  might  indulge 
 it.  However,  I  would  be  on  my  guard,  and  de- 
 fire  to  make  no  ufe  of  the  partiality  of  my  friends, 
 but  the  intereft  of  religion,  and  the  glory  of  my 
 Redeemer. 
 
 iRETURNyoumy  thanks  for  the  fermons  you  fent 
 me ;  they  are  worthy  of  Dr.  PFatts*s  excellent  pen, 
 I  have  juft  read  the  Effay  on  Re  a/on  i   *tis  writ  by 
 
 Mr. 
 
240         LETTERS. 
 
 Mr.  Harte^  and  is  very  fine.  Mr.  Pope\  Satire  on 
 Women  is  more  mild  than  I  expeded  ;  and  if  well 
 us'd,  may  reform  the  fex. 
 
 I  MUST  bid  you  adieu;  it  will  be  prudence  In 
 me  to  manage  my  flock  of  thought,  that  you  may 
 not  difcover  the  inward  vacancy  too  foon. 
 
 May  attending  angels  condu6l  you  in  the  facred 
 paths  of  peace  and  virtue  ! 
 
 LETTER     XVI. 
 
 To  the  fame. 
 
 JT^HE  N  I  confider  life^  'tis  all  a  cheats 
 
 Tely  fool'd  with  hope^  7?ien  favour  the  deceit ^ 
 ^ruft  on^  and  think  to-morrow  will  repay  ; 
 tomorrow''  s  falfer  than  the  former  day^ 
 Lyes  more^  and  when  it  fays  we  floall  be  lleji 
 With  Jome  new  joy,  cuts  off  what  we  poffeji. 
 
 This  is  the  pidure  of  human  life  ;  when  we  view 
 it  without  a  connexion  to  the  next  permanent  fcene, 
 paft  and  future  pleafures  have  but  an  imaginary 
 being.  I  have  been  taking  fome  pains  to  reafon 
 myfelf  into  a  ftate  of  indolence,  and  endeavour- 
 ing to  put  a  full  period  to  all.expe<5lation  of  happi- 
 nefs  below  the  ftars.  All  that  deferves  the  name 
 of  happinefs  on  earth,  is  that  friendly  imprefTion, 
 that  real  merit  makes  on  virtuous  minds  *,  but  that 
 (lamp  is  immortal,  and  will  reach  perfedion  in  the 
 blifsfal  regions  above. 
 
 Your  poetical  defcription  has  fet  the  beauties  of 
 nature  in  a  full  profped:  before  my  imagination.  I 
 am  glad  you  met  with  fuch  variety  of  romantic 
 
 fcenes 
 
LETTERS. 
 
 241 
 
 icenes  in  your  rambles ;  but  the  brighteft  appear- 
 ances in  nature  cannot  excite  my  envy,  or  raife  my 
 curiofity. 
 
 By  what  Pv^  liv*d,  I  plainly  know 
 The  total  fu7)i  of  all  helow. 
 
 Were  I  permitted  to  make  my  tour  among  the 
 Harry  worlds,  I  fhouid  leave  you  very  gladly  to 
 make  the  beft  of  whatever  enjoyment  the  Tea  or 
 dry  land  could  give  you. 
 
 Don't  ask  me  to  meet  you  at  Oxford^  that  you 
 may  fpare  me  the  pain  of  a  refufal ;  which  will  be 
 more  tormenting  to  myfelf  than  to  you. 
 
 Vol.  II. 
 
 R 
 
 O  R  I- 
 
ORIGINAL 
 
 POEMS 
 
 A  N  D 
 
 TRANSLATIONS. 
 
 B   Y 
 
 Mr.   THOMAS  ROWE. 
 
 -Non  haec  funt  edita  ah  illo ; 
 
 Sed  quafi  de  domini  funere  rapta  fui, 
 ^icquid  in  his  igitur  vilii  rude  carmen  habehit^ 
 Emendaturus^fi  licuiffet^  erat,  Ovid, 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed  in  the  Year  M  DCC  XXX VIII, 
 
ff 
 
[  ^*5  ] 
 
 POEMS 
 
 O   N 
 
 Several  Occafioris. 
 
 Horace  B.I.  Ode  XIL  Imitated* 
 
 1708. 
 C  L 10,   heav'n-born    mufe  !    what 
 
 happy  man. 
 Or  godlike  hero,  (hall  thy  well-tun*d 
 harp. 
 
 Or  pipe  ih  rill -founding  celebrate?  Or  if 
 A  loftier  theme  delight  thee,  fay  what  God 
 Shall  Echo,  pleafing  babler,  taught  by  thee. 
 Sing  in  the  fhades  of  Helicon^  or  P/W, 
 Or  Hcemiis'*  facred  mount  ?  where  Orpheus,  fkill'd 
 In  arts  maternal,  lift'ning  rivers  flopt 
 In  their  fwift  courfes,  luU'd  the  winds  to  filence, 
 
 R  3  And 
 
246  POEMS 
 
 And  made  the  ftubborn  oaks  attentive  move 
 To  aukward  dances  their  unwieldy  limbs. 
 
 Where  better  can  the  pious  mufe  begin^ 
 Than  with  the  univerfal  Father's  praife  ? 
 Who  rules  the  pow'rs  above,  and  man  below. 
 The  earth's  wide  plains,  the  fea's  unbounded  waves^ 
 And  laws  to  all  the  vaft  creation  gives. 
 With  undifputed  fway  ;  himfelf  fecure 
 Of  own'd  preheminence  ;  nor  equal  knows. 
 Nor  aught  that  may  deferve  a  fecond  place. 
 Yet  Pallas  next  our  adoration  claims  5 
 Immortal  maid,  in  arts  and  arms  fupreme : 
 Bacchus,  the  foft  amufer  of  our  cares. 
 With  India's  conqueft  proud  :  Diana,  foe 
 To  beafts  untam'd  :  Apollo,  tuneful  God  ; 
 Able  alike  to  give  the  wretched  life 
 By  potent  herbs,  and  villains  certain  death 
 By  never-erring  darts,  command  our  lays. 
 
 Nor  ever  Ihall  the  grateful  mufe  forget 
 Alcides,  matchlefs  hero  *,  nor  the  twins. 
 Whom  Lcda  bore  to  Jove ;  this  fkill'd  to  tame 
 The  fiery  courfer,  this  in  fight  untam'd ; 
 Both  bv  the  mariners  rever'd  i  for  foon 
 As  their  aufpicious  ftar  adorns  the  fkies. 
 The  foaming  waters  trickle  from  the  rocks. 
 The  winds  retire  in  whifpers ;  blackeft  clouds^ 
 That  erft  portended  (lorms,  divide,  and  leave 
 A  pleafing  day,  and  ev'ry  threat'ning  wave 
 (So  will  the  Gods !  fo  unrefilled  fate  !) 
 Sinks  to  a  calm,  and-fieeps  upon  the  feas. 
 
 What 
 
on 
 
 Several  Occasions,     247 
 
 What  next  forbids  to  fing  Britannia*s  chiefs. 
 In  war  and  peace  illuftrious  ?  Brulus  firft. 
 Sire  of  the  nation ;  Egbert^  pow*rful  prince. 
 Source  of  a  thoufand  kings  *,  Norfnanma\  duke. 
 An  eafy,  and  a  rightful  conqueror 
 Of  realms  his  own  :  Or  (hall  I  thofe  record. 
 Who,  born  beneath  a  throne,  to  diftant  climes 
 Extended  Britain^  glory  and  their  own? 
 Talbot,  a  name  ftill  dreaded  by  the  Gaul  : 
 TFarwick,  fure  punifher  of  perjur'd  kings. 
 Who  play'd  with  crowns,  and  tofs'd  the  gilded  trifles 
 To  whom  he  pleas'd,  defpifing  them,  as  fat 
 Beneath  his  own  acceptance :  Bev^reux^  long 
 By  great  Eliza  favour'd,  loft  at  laft 
 By  wiles  of  ftatefmen,  and  heroic  crimes. 
 Who  can  enough  or  Vere,  or  Cdndijh  praife  I 
 Or  Brake,  Iberians  fcourge  ?  Him  poverty 
 Paternal,  and  a  youth  inur'd  to  hardfhips 
 Fitted  for  vaft  exploits,  and  taught  to  gain 
 By  merit  honours  fortune  had  deny'd. 
 Thro'  ev'ry  age  the  RuJJels  patriot  race 
 Rifes  in  fame.     The  bright  Najfovian  ftar 
 Shines  with  tranfcendent  fplendor,  and  excels 
 All  leffer  lights,  as  Phcebe  thofe  of  heav'n. 
 
 Father  and  guardian  of  the  human  race. 
 Offspring  of  Saturn,  who  by  fate's  decree 
 Difpofeft  Annah  deftiny  ;  preferve 
 Thy  precious  charge,  extend  her  glorious  fway. 
 May  fhe  acknowledge  thee  alone  fuperior. 
 Nor  have  on  earth  an  equal :  If  fhe  drives 
 From  her  realm's  limits  the  invading  GauU 
 
 R  4  Or 
 
248  POEMS 
 
 Or  on  the  hoftile  land  due  vengeance  takes. 
 Haughty  in  well-got  fpoils ;  ftill  under  thee 
 May  ihe  in  mildnefs  happy  nations  rule. 
 Do  thou  Olympus  with  thy  chariot  Ihake  ; 
 Then  juftly  on  thy  foes  and  ours,  incenft. 
 Dart  forked  lightning,  make  deftrudlion  ceafe. 
 And  blefs  the  finking  world  with  lafling  peace. 
 
 .    TiivhhXis  Bookl.  Elegy  \\\.  * 
 
 H  I  L  E  you,  Mejfala^  with  your  warlike 
 train. 
 In  haughty  triurnph  plow  the  fubjed  main. 
 Me  my  hard  fate  in  realms  unknown  detains, 
 Thro*  all  my  frame  a  dire  diflemper  reigns. 
 And  very  hardly  life  itfelf  remains. 
 
 0  could  my  pray'rs  obtain  a  fliort  reprieve ! 
 Would  the  grint  tyrant  a  kind  refpite  give ! 
 
 1  have  no  mother  here  to  clofe  my  eyes. 
 And  grace  With  pious  tears  my  obfequies; 
 No  filter,  who  in  loofe,  diOleverd  hair. 
 And  all  the  pomp  of  defolate  defpair. 
 Should  filed  rich  fpices  at  my  fepulchre : 
 Nor  BeHa's  here,  whofe  prefence  could  create 
 Health  and  new  life,  each  raging  pain  abate. 
 And  reconcile  my  foul  to  all  the  ills  of  fate. 
 She,  ere  I  went,  fought  ev'ry  powV  above. 
 And  ev'ry  pow'r  feem'd  gracious  to  her  love  i 
 All  fpoke  a  lafe  return,  yet  flill  fhe  fear*d. 
 And  tender  anguiili'in  her  looks  appear'd  j 
 
 Tears 
 
071  Several  Occasions.     249 
 
 Tears  from  her  eyes  in  briny  torrents  fell-, 
 
 And  fighs  in  rifing  choak'd  her  laft  farewcl. 
 
 I  too  oft'  fought  pretexts  for  my  delay  •, 
 
 Foul  birds  and  baleful  omens  ftopt  my  way, 
 
 Or  (tars  averfe,  or  Saturn's  lucklefs  day. 
 
 Oft'  I  return'd  a  longer  time  to  wait, 
 
 Mov'd  by  ill-boding  ftumblings  at  the  gate. 
 
 Taught  by  my  harms,  let  men  with  caution  move. 
 
 Nor  tempt  the  wrath  of  unconfenting  love. 
 
 What  is  thy  i//i,  Belia^  now  to  me? 
 
 Or  what  the  fruit  of  thy  vain  piety  ? 
 
 What  have  I  gain'd  from  all  thy  widow'd  nights, 
 
 Giv'n  all  to  her,  and  ftoln  from  our  delights? 
 
 Yet,  Goddefs,  fave !  exert  thy  healing  pow'r. 
 
 And  to  loft  health  a  finking  wretch  reftore ! 
 
 That  Delia  may  before  thine  altars  bow. 
 
 Perform  in  pious  gratitude  her  vow. 
 
 And  oft',  with  hair  unbound,  in  artful  lays, 
 
 Among  thy  Pharian  crowd,  may  chaunt  thy  praifes 
 
 When  I  to  my  poor  houlhold  Gods  return. 
 
 And  monthly  incenfe  to  my  Lares  burn. 
 
 O  for  that  age  of  innocence  again. 
 
 That  bleft  the  world  in  good  old  Saturn's  reign  ! 
 
 Ere  the  divifions  of  the  earth  were  known, 
 
 Or  men  for  foreign  lands  defpis'd  their  own. 
 
 While  the  tall  pine  yet  on  the  m.ountain  llood. 
 
 The  fife,  unenvy'd  monarch  of  the  wood, 
 
 Not  yet  cut  down,  and  taught  on  feas  to  brave 
 
 The  rage  of  ev'ry  wind,  and  ev'ry  wave: 
 
 For  yet  no  mariner,  for  fordid  gain, 
 
 Difturb'd  the  quiet  of  the  watVy  reign. 
 
 The 
 
2^o  POEMS 
 
 Tnc  ox,  unyok'd,  might  thro'  the  paftures  dray 
 Nor  ihe  tough  bits  taught  horfes  to  obey. 
 No  doors  fecur'd  the  houfes  yet,  nor  bounds 
 To  private  uie  confin'd  the  fruitful  grounds. 
 Soft  honey  from  the  folid  oaks  diftill'd : 
 The  Iheep,  that  rang'd  unguarded  o'er  the  field, 
 Unfought,    to  ev'ry  hand  their  fwelling   dugs 
 
 would  yield. 
 No  thirft  of  empire,  no  ambitious  rage. 
 Nor  fell  debate,  taught  mortals  to  engage. 
 Nor  broke  the  calm  repofe  that  bleft  the  peaceful j 
 
 age. 
 
 Now  under  Jove  reign  rapine,  flaughter,  hate. 
 And  wars,  and  flormy  feas,  and  thoufand  forms  of 
 
 fate. 
 O  fpare,  great  fire !  I  never  falfly  fwore, 
 Blafphem'd  thy  awful  name,  nor  dar'd  thy  pow'r. 
 But  if  the  fata],  deftin'd  hour  is  come. 
 Be  this  infcription  plac'd  upon  my  tomb : 
 While  numbered  with  Meflala'j  inartial  train^ 
 ^he  toils  of  landy  and  dangers  of  the  main 
 Tibullus  provW  ;  by  early  fate  opprejly 
 Beneath  this  htmble  tomb  his  afhes  refi. 
 But  me  love's  queen,  her  ever-faithful  flave 
 Will  ftill  proted,  and  cherilh  in  the  grave  ; 
 She  bleft  me  living,  and  will  guard  me  dead. 
 And  to  th'  Elyftan  fields  her  conftant  vot'ry  lead; 
 Bright   fcene  of  endlefs  blifs !    where  feather'd 
 
 throngs. 
 With  (lender  throats,  repeat  melodious  fongs. 
 Th'  unlabour'd  meads  fpontaneous  cafTia  bear ; 
 And  purple  rofes  flouriili  round  the  year. 
 
 Join'd 
 
o;^  Several  OccTAsiONs.     251 
 
 Join'd  with  foft  nymphs  the  fhepherds  dance  and 
 
 play, 
 And  fport  a  glad  eternity  away. 
 Mirth  and  gay  joys  reign  o'er  the  blifsful  fpace. 
 And  youth  immortal  fmiles  inev'ry  face. 
 Unhappy  lovers,  by  ftern  fortune's  hate. 
 And  the  rough  hand  of  unrelenting  fate, 
 Snatch'd  fudden  from  their  joys,  are  doubly  bleft. 
 With  myrtle  wreaths  diftinguiih'd  from  the  reft. 
 Far  from  thefe  regions  of  unmix'd  delight. 
 Hid  in  thick  Ihades  of  everlafting  night. 
 Are  the  dire  manfions  and  fevere  abodes. 
 Sacred  to  vengeance  and  infernal  Gods : 
 Round  the  fad  feats  fulphureous  waters  roar, 
 Vaft  Cerh*rus  barks  before  the  brazen  door  ; 
 tifi^bone,  with  fnaky  treffes  crown'd, 
 I.afhes  the  flying  criminals  around. 
 And  with  the  dreadful  noife  the  gloomy  caves 
 
 refound. 
 
 Jxion  there,  whofe  infolence  durft  move 
 To  impious  fires  the  royal  bride  of  Jove, 
 Fix'd  on  his  reftlefs  wheel,  while  endlefs  years 
 Purfue  their  courfe,  the  whirling  vtngeancc  bears, 
 Tilytis  extended  o'er  nine  acres  lies, 
 And  daily  food  to  rav'nous  birds  fupplies: 
 And  Tantalus,  with  feeming  plenty  curft. 
 Sees  waters  court  his  lips,  yet  dies  for  thirft. 
 There  juftly  fuffer  Damus'  curfed  race. 
 The  horror  and  the  hate  of  all  the  difmal  place  ; 
 "Who  braving  love,  and  Hymen's  facred  rites. 
 Could  flay  their  hufl)ands  on  their  nuptial  nights. 
 
 There 
 
252  POEMS 
 
 There  may  the  wretches  howl,  whoe'er  they  be^. 
 Who  wifh'd  ill-fortune  to  my  love  and  me ; 
 That  I  might  from  my  Delia  wander  far. 
 Thro'  all  the  hardfhips  of  a  tedious  war. 
 But  thou,  my  love,  thy  conftancy  retain. 
 And  true  to  me,  and  thy  own  vows  remain ; 
 In  fafe  retirement  my  long  abfence  mourn, 
 Nor  form  a  wifh  for  joy  till  my  return. 
 Let  thy  old  faithful  nurfe  be  ever  by, 
 The  ancient  guardian  of  thy  chaftity  ; 
 Whofe  tales  may  chafe  the  ling'ring  (hades  away. 
 And  lull  thy  forrows  till  the  dawning  day. 
 Sudden  I'll  come,  as  to  thy  willies  giv'n, 
 And  fent  by  fome  ftrange  miracle  from  heav'n  v 
 Then  thou,  my  Delia^  with  an  hafty  pace. 
 Run  unadorn'd  and  loofe  to  my  embrace. 
 "When,  when,  ye  povv'rs,  will  that  bright  morning 
 
 rife,    ,. 
 To  paint  with  livelier  red  the  eaflern  skies. 
 Which  ending  all  my  griefs  and  dire  alarms. 
 Shall  give  my  Delia  to  my  longing  arms? 
 Propitious  heav'n,  all  obftacles  remove; 
 Ai)d  let  me  die  at^leaft  with  the  dear  nymph  I  love  \ 
 
 An 
 
on  Several  Occasions.     253 
 
 An  ODE  on  Virtue. 
 I. 
 
 CElbstial  Virtue,  offspring  of  the  sky. 
 For  thee  alone  I  touch  the  trembling  ftring 5 
 Affift  thy  modeft  votary. 
 And  take  the  humble  incenfe  that  I  bring: 
 
 Excqfe  at  lead  the  doubtful  fgng. 
 While  mortal  lays  the  lofty  fubjeft  wrppg.  ~ 
 
 IL 
 
 Thy  charms,  bright  Virtue,  all  mankind  confefs  1 
 
 And  ev'n  the  monfter  Vice, 
 When  fhe  th'  unpradis'd  fmner  would  entice. 
 To  meet  his  firil  attempt  fhe  borrows  thy  addrefs. 
 
 Is  bafhful  yet  and  nice, 
 A  virgin  delicacy  feems  to  wear : 
 For  fhould  her  own  deformity 
 
 Without  difguife  appear. 
 What  doating  wretch  but  would  the  terror  fly  ? 
 What  defp'rate  fool,  Ihould  ihe  unveil  her  face, 
 ^Would  tempt  perdition  for  the  curft  embrace  ? 
 
 IIL 
 
 Preceding  times  in  great  examples  fhew 
 What  human  minds,  infpir'd  by  thee,  can  do. 
 By  gen'rous  principles  and  honour  led. 
 The  lovely  Syrian,  in  his  blooming  age, 
 
 Refus'd  the  fond  Egyptian's  bed. 
 And  ftedfaflly  repuls'd  her  am'rous  rage. 
 
 IV.  When 
 
254  POEMS 
 
 IV. 
 
 When  ancient  Tanis  in  her  glory  flood. 
 Proud  of  her  palmy  groves  and  facred  flood  ; 
 Which  gently  flowing  from  its  heav'nly  fource, 
 Enrich'd  her  level  borders  with  its  courfe : 
 Vail  pyramids,  with  elevated  heads. 
 Pointed  the  plains,and  flretch'd  their  fpiral  fliades 
 To  difl:ant  woods,  and  far-extended  meads. 
 Rich  'Thebes,  devoted  to  the  God  of  day. 
 Stood,  like  her  own  refplendent  planet,  gay. 
 The  lofty  domes  with  golden  luftre  Ihone, 
 An  hundred  gates  adorn'd  the  pop'lous  town  ; 
 The  buildings  all  were  rais'd  with  wond'rous  cofl. 
 With  filver  foliage  the  high  roofs  embofl ; 
 WelLflnifh'd  fculpture  on  the  walls  was  Ihown  i 
 For  art  was  here  in  full  perfedion  known. 
 
 Ere  Phidias  wrought  in  Parian  Hone, 
 Or  Greece  her  skilful  D^dalus  could  boafl. 
 Th'  Egyptian  court  with  fofc  Affyria  vy'd 
 
 In  all  her  luxury  and  pride. 
 But  Pharaoh*^  age  no  promised  heir  fupply'd  ; 
 His  beauteous  daughter  all  his  hopes  betray'd. 
 
 To  Ifis  fhe  herfelf  had  vow'd 
 A  confecrated  maid  : 
 The  facred  crefcent  on  her  breafl:  fhe  wore. 
 Her  robe  with  golden  ftars  was  fpangled  o'er. 
 
 To  Kilus^  banks  the  pious  fair. 
 Performing  holy  rites  did  now  repair ; 
 When  from  the  fhore  an  infant's  feeble  cries 
 Her  virgin  train  furprize : 
 
 Among 
 
on  Several  Qccasioks.     255 
 
 Among  the  reeds  a  lovely  boy  they  found. 
 
 His  temples  with  an  ambient  glory  crown'd. 
 
 Divine  prefagcs  fparkled  in  his  face, 
 
 Unvulgar  beauty,  and  exprefslefs  grace: 
 
 The  Gods  have  thus,  the  joyfuj  princefs  cry'd^ 
 
 My  father's  wifhes  with  an  heir  fupply'd. 
 
 Young  Mofes  her  adopted  fon  ihe  nam'd ; 
 
 But  when  his  years  had  reach'd  their  manly  primes 
 
 The  title  he  difclaim'd  ; 
 
 Govern'd  by  motives  more  fublime. 
 
 While  heav'nly  Virtue  his  high  thoughts  inflam'd, 
 
 » 
 
 V. 
 
 By  heavenly  Virtue  led, 
 Th'  Egyptian  court,  and  all  its  pomp  he  fled  % 
 And  wand'ring  far  away  on  Midian  plains. 
 An  humble  life  he  chofe  among  the  fwains. 
 Jn  moving  lays  he  taught  the  rural  throng 
 Celeftial  truths  -,  while,  lift'ning  to  his  drain. 
 
 The  flying  winds  their  breath  retain. 
 And  winding  currents  flowly  glide  along. 
 Of  chaos  and  the  world's  great  birth  he  fung. 
 How  from  the  word  divine  the  fair  creation  fprung. 
 High  Horeh  from  his  cloudy  fummic  heard 
 The  tuneful  founds,  long  ere  the  Tbracian  bard. 
 On  HcEmiii^  banks,  in  potent  numbers  fl:rove 
 A  favage  nation  wifely  to  improve. 
 
 VI. 
 
 When  on  Bethoron\  plains  great  Jojhua  chas'd 
 
 The  Amorean  kings ; 
 Left  darknefs  o'er  their  fl.ight  her  veil  fliould  caft. 
 
 And 
 
^^6  POEMS 
 
 And  frotn  his  fword  proted  them  with  her  wings. 
 Forward  before  his  wond'ring  troops  he  fprung, 
 Pois'd  in  his  hand  a  trembling  jav^hn  hung  ; 
 Mov'd  by  an  infligation  all  divine, 
 Heroic  Virtue,  the  great  hint  was  thine : 
 When  on  the  fparkling  skies 
 The  daring  warrior  fix'd  his  eyes. 
 Some. God  the  foldiers  in  his  face  regard, 
 "While  from  his  lips  thefe  mighty  words  they  heard. 
 Thou  fun,  he  boldly  cry'd,  thou  fun,  ftand  dill. 
 Nor  ftretch  the  fhades  on  Giheab's  lofty  hiH  ; 
 And  thou,  fair  moon,  retard  thy  haily  flight. 
 And  gild  the  vales  o(  Jljalon  at  night: 
 Aflonifh'd  nature  inilantly  obey'd. 
 And  i;i  a  deep  fufpenfe  the  heav'nly  motions  ftay'd. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Nor  leave  the  tuneful  heroine  un-nam'd. 
 Ye  virgin  mufes,  who  her  bread  inflam'd  ; 
 Virtue  no  brighter  votary  can  boaft, 
 No  brighter  names  in  all  her  hft  appear. 
 She  touched  the  lyre,  and  fhook  the  pointed  Ipear, 
 The  life  and  glory  of  the  Hebrew  hoft : 
 Old  Kijbon  to  her  aid  his  billows  brought, 
 And  on  her  fide  the  marfhaird  planets  fought. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The  Medes  fubdu'd,  and  Echatana  raz'd. 
 The  haughty  Ferfian  with  frefh  laurels  grac'd. 
 To  yordaji^^  banks  his  num'rous  forces  led. 
 Wide  as  the  eaftern  rule  was  fpread, 
 
 The 
 
on  Several  Occasions.     257 
 
 The  diftant  realms  his  glad  afTiftants  come  : 
 From  Serka,  and  Qxiis*  borders  fome. 
 From  Didiis*  and  imperial  Ganges^  fhores. 
 And  where  laxartes'  rapid  current  roars. 
 The  hardy  race  on  wild  Hyrcania  bred, 
 
 Advanc'd  with  bold  intrepid  breafls. 
 The  tall  Armenians  with  their  waving  crefts. 
 
 And  Parthians  with  their  backward  bows, 
 A  dreadful  fcene  on  Hehronh  plains  difclofe. 
 But  none  in  courage  or  in  fplendor  vy'd 
 With  the  gay  troops  that  left  the  flow'ry  fields. 
 Where  royal  Ulai  rolls  his  cryftal  tide ; 
 Their  helmets  gold,  and  gold  their  blazing  fliields. 
 With  dancing  plumes  and  Syrian  fcarves,  from  far 
 They  flione  the  pride  and  terror  of  the  war : 
 With  airy  feet  their  courfers  fpurn'd  the  plains. 
 In  filver  trappings  deck'd  ; 
 
 With  iilver  curbs  and  fcarlet  reins 
 Their  fiery  rage  their  graceful  riders  check'd. 
 Encamp'd  before  the  facred  hill  they  lay, 
 Where  Salejn's  lofty  cow'rs  their  ftrength  difplay. 
 
 IX.   • 
 
 While  to  their  great  forefather's  aid 
 WHch  iledfaft  zeal  the  fons  of  Ifrael  pray'd. 
 The  potent  pray'r  prevails ;  a  Hebrew  dame 
 By  heav'n  was  deftin'd  to  the  great  event. 
 To  fix  a  fcandal  on  th*  AJfyrian  nam^, 
 A  lafting  fcandal,  and  immortal  (hame. 
 Led  by  the  mighty  impulfe  7^/^i//>  went 
 Undaunted  to  the  Perjlan  leader's  tent  •, 
 
 Vol.  II.  S  The 
 
258  POEMS 
 
 The  chief  with  wonder  gazes  on  the  fair. 
 Her  geflure  free,  engaging  all  her  air. 
 
 A  nice  referve  and  modeft  pride 
 Chaften'd  the  native  foftnefs  in  her  looks  defcry'd. 
 Her  features  nobly  turn'd,  her  cheeks  difclofe 
 A  frefher  blufh  than  paints  the  blooming  rofe. 
 Her  eyes  were  black,  and  black  her  fhining  hair ; 
 Black  as  the  midnight  clouds,  which  fometimes  grace 
 With  chequer'd  fhades  the  moon's  refplendent  face  5 
 Part  to  the  fight  was  in  loofe  curls  expos'd, 
 
 The  reft  a  fpangled  caul  enclos'd : 
 To  that  a  white  tranfparent  veil  was  join'd. 
 Which  negligently  hover'd  to  the  wind. 
 With  envious  art  a  fhade  of  fineft  lawn 
 
 Was  o'er  her  fv/elling  bofom  drawn. 
 A  fparkling  diamond  hung  at  either  ear. 
 And  rubies  round  her  fwelling  neck  appear. 
 Her  robes  were  coftly  filk,  and  ev'ry  fold 
 Vary'd  with  blue  and  winding  ftreaks  of  gold. 
 She  foon  protedion  and  redrefs  obtain'd  j 
 While  from  the  Perfian  chief 
 
 Her  moving  words  procur'd  belief. 
 And  eafy  credit  gain'd. 
 A  rich  pavilion  to  his  own  adjoin'd 
 
 Was  to  the  fair  that  night  afTign'd, 
 Afiur'd  from  all  a  juft  refpedl  .to  find. 
 The  charming  Hebrew  with  her  maid  retir'd. 
 And  left  the  gen'ral  with  her  beauty  fir'd  ; 
 But  gentle  deep  his  am'rous  cares  appeas'd. 
 While  thro'  the  camp -the  midnight  riot  ceas'd. 
 
 Darknefs  and  filence  now  combine 
 To  favour  Judith  in  her  great  defign. 
 
 Un- 
 
on  Several  Occasions.      259 
 
 Undaunted  Virtue  fill'd  her  bread. 
 Undaunted  Virtue  her  whole  foul  pofTeft ; 
 While  by  a  glimm'ring  taper  led. 
 She  found  the  deeping  warrior's  bed  : 
 His  fword  with  an  audacious  air  fhe  took. 
 And  freed  her  nation  at  one  noble  ftroke. 
 
 X. 
 
 By  Grecian  heroes  wonders  have  been  done. 
 
 And  lading  fame  for  great  atchievcments  won  \ 
 
 But  all  they  tell  wild  fidions  prove. 
 
 Of  fated  armor,  and  alTiding  Jove, 
 
 No  partial  Goddefs  to  Achilles  brought 
 
 A  fpear  and  fev'n-fold  diield  by  Vulcan  wrought. 
 
 'No  Pallas  to  the  field  Atrides  led. 
 
 Nor  grac'd  the  chariot  with  young  Bmned^ 
 
 When  from  his  raging  fword  the  Trojans  fled  ; 
 
 But  Virtue  own'd  the  Argives  caufe. 
 Avenging  breach  of  faith  and  hofpitable  laws: 
 Their  bed  fuccefs  was  owing  dill  to  thee. 
 Their  profp'rous  Genius  thou,  and  aiding  Deity. 
 
 XL 
 
 At  ancient  Rome  thy  name  was  long  ador'd. 
 For  thee  they  drew,  for  thee  they  dieath'd  the  fword. 
 
 Great  Numa'ok'  convers'd  with  thee, 
 Amidd  the  gloomy  night's  folemnity. 
 
 While  the  pale  moon  with  filver  beams 
 Checquer'd  the  diades^and  glimmer'd  on  the  dreams, 
 Egeria  or  Urania,  nymphs  divine. 
 He  oft'  invok'd  by  fome  clear  fountain's  fall  : 
 
 S  2  How- 
 
i6o  POEMS 
 
 However  nam'd,  the  lovely  form  was  thine 
 
 That  anfwer'd  (till  his  call ; 
 From  thee  he  learn'd  by  gentle  arts  t'  aflfwage 
 The  Sahines  fullen  hatred,  and  the  Roman  rage. 
 
 Nor  Faunus  gave  (as  ftory  tells) 
 
 The  peaceful  prince  fantaftic  fpells; 
 
 To  charm  fierce  lions  from  their  prey. 
 Or  fwelling  torrents  in  their  banks  to  flay ; 
 
 To  turn  the  lightning's  fatal  force, 
 
 Or  break  the  raging  thunder's  courfe ; 
 Thefe  great  effeds,  celeftial  Piety, 
 Thefe  great  effeds  belong  alone  to  thee. 
 
 XII. 
 
 MANLIUS  and  great  Camillus  owe  to  thee 
 Their  fame  and  glorious  immortality. 
 
 Hor alius  fought  by  thee  fuftain'd. 
 When  fingly  he  th'  unequal  war  maintain'd ; 
 In  vain  to  pafs  the  bridge  the  'Tufcans  ilrove. 
 Backward  whole  fquadrons  with  his  fpear  he  drove ; 
 
 Fix'd  as  his  country's  guardian  God, 
 
 On  Tyber^  banks  the  hero  flood. 
 And  ftain'd  the  foaming  ilream  with  hoflile  blood. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 In  vain  ill  omens  would  Flaminius  fright ; 
 In  vain  his  courfer,  with  unufual  fears, 
 
 Scill  backward  from  the  fight 
 
 The  furious  warrior  bears  ; 
 Unmanag'd  o*er  the  wide  campaign  he  flew, 
 And  from  his  feat  the  daring  rider  threw  i 
 
 The 
 
o»  Several  Occasions.     261 
 
 The  daring  rider  mounts  again. 
 And  urg'd  the  battle  on  the  deftin'd  plain. 
 Unterrify'd  with  Hannibal^s  great  name. 
 
 And  full  of  martial  flame. 
 Still  foremoft  on  the  glict'ring  fpears  he  preft: 
 The  Roman  Genius  for  his  life  diftreft. 
 With  a  prodigious  earthquake  fhook  the  ground  ; 
 
 The  violent  force 
 Pour'd  back  the  rivers  to  their  inmofl  fource, 
 Revers'd  the  floods,  and  changed  their  native  courfe. 
 Thrice  from  the  fkies  portentous  thunders  found. 
 And  thrice  ill-boding  lightnings  blaz'd  around ; 
 Nor  earthquakes,lightnings,nor  the  thund'ring  skies 
 A  bread  with  virtue  guarded  can  furprize : 
 
 Still  refolute  and  bold, 
 Flaminius  on  the  thickefl  dangers  flies, 
 And  bravely  met  the  fate  the  warning  Gods  foretold, 
 
 XV. 
 
 If  ever  pralfe  to  Roman  worth  was  due. 
 If  ever  Virtue  could  difl:in(5lion  claim, 
 
 Great  Scipio^  thy  illufl:rious  name 
 Shall  ftand  the  foremoft  in  the  lifts  of  fame. 
 And  future  times  thy  triumphs  Ihall  renew. 
 
 The  conduct  ot  Fahrilm'  age. 
 
 And  young  Minulm*  martial  rage 
 
 In  thee  were  eminently  found: 
 With  all  that  men  revere,  or  heav'n  applauds. 
 
 Thy  glorious  life  was  crown'd. 
 Rome's  mighty  empire  feem'd  alone  on  thee 
 
 Dependent  for  fecurity : 
 
 S  7  Without 
 
262  POEMS 
 
 Without  thee,  ev'n  her  boafted  Gods 
 Had  ill  defended  their  own  gay  abodes. 
 "Whatever  wreaths  at  Tbehes  or  "Troy  were  gain'd. 
 Whatever  fame  at  Salafnis  obtain'd, 
 
 Or  at  Arbella's  fatal  field. 
 Their  mod  illuftrious  deeds  to  thine  mull  yield. 
 Nor  waft  thou  in  thy  publick  life  more  great 
 
 Than  in  thy  laft  retreat 
 To  the  Linternian  fhades,  thy  humble  feat. 
 In  all  things  thou  waft  modeft  ftill  and  brave. 
 Neither  to  Vice,  nor  Virtue's  felf  a  flave  ; 
 Virtue  was  choice,  delib'rate  choice,  in  thee. 
 Not  philofophic  pride,  nor  dull  neceflity. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Bright  Goddefs,  what  refiftlefs  charms  are  thine. 
 That  men  for  thee  all  human  things  forego. 
 
 And  willingly  refign 
 The  deareft  ties  and  fofteft  names  below  ? 
 By  what  ftrange  arguments  doft  thou  engage 
 Unpra6lis'd  youth,  and  fpiritlefs  old-age. 
 To  brave  for  thee  the  fierceft  tyrant's  rage  ? 
 Bright  Goddefs,  thou  the  caufe  alone  canft  tell. 
 And  all  the  ilicred  myftery  reveal. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 'Tis  done!  immortal  light  without  controul 
 
 Comes  rufhing  like  a  mighty  torrent  on  my  foul. 
 
 Tranfporting  fcenes  are  open'd  to  my  eyes  -, 
 
 I  fee  the  inmoft  glories  of  the  skies. 
 I  fee  the  bright  diftinguifh'd  crown. 
 That  led  the  conqu'ring  martyrs  on. 
 
 I  walk 
 
on  Several  Occasions.      263 
 
 I  walk  among  the  manfions  of  the  Gods, 
 
 The  fofc  recefles,  and  the  bleft  abodes. 
 
 I  trace  the  happy  vales  and  lightfome  plains, 
 
 Where  pleafure,  peace  and  love  triumphant  reigns : 
 
 Thro'  all  the  region  rolind 
 The  voice  of  feilival  and  nuptial  fongs 
 
 Perpetually  refound. 
 
 Ineffable  the  reft, 
 
 And  by  immortal  tongues 
 
 Alone  to  be  expreft. 
 All  hail,  ye  fcourges,  flames  and  tort'ring^wheels! 
 Your  force  no  more  the  fliiv'ring  fancy  feels. 
 
 Enlightened  thus,  Rofnanus  try'd 
 The  tyrant's  utmoft  cruelty  and  pride. 
 
 Lucius^  with  thefe  bright  profpedls  fir'd. 
 And  young  Hormifda^  their  tormentors  tir'd  5 
 Rhea  and  Dionyfia  trampled  down 
 Oppofmg  hell,  and  gain'd  the  martyr's  crown. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 With  arts  more  fatal  Deems  ftrove 
 Nketas*  fortitude  to  move. 
 In  a  delicious  garden's  foft  retreat 
 The  youth  was  gently  laid. 
 Wrapt  in  a  filken  net, 
 A  flov/'ry  couch  beneath  him  fpread. 
 Where  fragrant  jefs'mins  lent  a  grateful  fhade. 
 A  dying  breeze,  a  fountain's  eafy  fall, 
 Mix*d  with  melodious  birds,  for  gay  delights  did 
 
 call. 
 While  a  young  harlot,  in  the  tempting  pride 
 Of  airy  life  and  wanton  beauty  try'd 
 
 S  4  With 
 
2^4  POEMS 
 
 With  guilty  blandifhtnent  and  art, 
 Obfcene  carefies  and  licentious  fong. 
 To  poifon  with  contagious  flames  his  heart. 
 To  tempt  the  faint  his  holy  vows  to  wrong  •, 
 Unconquer'd  yet  the  youthful  faint  remain'd, 
 And  all  her  proffer'd  charms  and  lewd  addrefs  dif- 
 dain'd. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 EULALIA  to  the  ftern  tribunal  prefs'd. 
 And  boldly  there  the  Chriftian  faith  profefs'd : 
 
 The  favage  judge  fufpends  her  doom, 
 Touch'd  with  her  dawning  charms  and  early  bloonr. 
 To  Jove\  high  fhrine  they  led  the  tender  maid  •, 
 The  prieft  in  his  fantaftic  pomp  array'd, 
 
 A  golden  cenfer  brought, 
 "With  confecrated  odours  fraught. 
 Which  fiercely  from  his  hand  the  virgin  caught  j 
 Beneath  her  feet  the  fmoking  gums  fhe  trod. 
 Derides  the  bigot,  and  infults  his  God  : 
 
 Unmov'd  the  fenfelefs  idol  ftands. 
 With  ufelefs  thunder  in  his  pafTive  hands ; 
 But  all  their  rage  his  wild  adorers  fhow. 
 
 And  in  their  cruelty 
 
 Surpafs'd  the  fiends  below. 
 Their  fcourges,  pincers,  and  their  racks  they  try'd ; 
 By  more  than  human  fortitude  fuftain'd 
 The  fuff'ring  maid  her  conftancy  retain'd. 
 Be  all  the  pow'rs  of  death  and  hell  defy'd  ! 
 Your  malice  can  no  more,  fhe  faintly  cry'd. 
 And  fmiling  on  her  curft  tormentors  dy'd. 
 
 XIX.  Nor 
 
on  Several  Occasions.     265 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Nor  Virtue  with  preceding  times  is  loft. 
 Nor  Rome  alone  illuftrious  names  can  boafl ; 
 The  charming  Goddefs  has  not  left  the  ftage, 
 A  thoufand  great  examples  grace  the  prefent  age: 
 But  Virtue  ne'er  with  brighter  pomp  was  feen. 
 Nor  wore  a  nobler  form  than  in  the  Britijh  Queen. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Thou  art  thy  own  immenfe  reward. 
 
 Should  man  no  future  ftate  regard. 
 Were  fields  of  light,  and  gay  ethereal  plains. 
 The  fanguine  flights  of  vifionary  brains ; 
 
 The  happy  mind,  poffeft  of  thee. 
 Would  find  unmingled  joy,  and  true  felicity. 
 Were  there  no  gloomy  Ihores,  no  burning  lakes. 
 No  chains  of  darknefs,  nor  infernal  racks » 
 Were  hell  a  wild,  enthufiaftic  dream, 
 A  ftatefman's  trick,  a  poet's  lying  theme, 
 
 A  pious  fraud,  a  black  deceit 
 Of  mercenary  priefts,  the  world  to  cheat  j 
 Yet  ftill  within  itfelf  a  guilty  mind 
 The  emphafis  of  ev'ry  plague  would  find. 
 
 .in 
 
266  POEMS 
 
 An  Epijile  to  a  Friend, 
 Written  in  the  Springs  1710, 
 
 WHILE  pious  Anna^  conqu'ring  arms 
 Fill  pow'rful  guilt  with  juit  alarms. 
 Which  now  fhall  foon  make  difcord  ceafe. 
 And  blefs  the  jarring  world  with  peace  j 
 "While  faucy  priefts  fedition  prate. 
 Arraign  the  Queen,  embroil  the  ftate. 
 And  murmur  at  they  know  not  what ; 
 Thou,  Daphnis^  by  kind  fate  fent  down 
 From  the  wild  tumults  of  the  town, 
 Doft,  in  a  happy  rural  feat, 
 Tafte  the  pure  joys  of  calm  retreat. 
 Nature,  with  blooming  honours  gay. 
 And  vernal  fweets,  invites  thy  ftay. 
 See  the  fair  morning  of  the  year 
 In  all  its  richeft  pomp  appear ! 
 See  the  brifk  fongfters  of  the  air 
 To  the  forfaken  woods  repair ! 
 Hear  them  in  artlefs  harmony 
 Welcome  back  the  fpring  and  thee. 
 Banifh'd  from  the  charming  plains. 
 No  more  the  (luggifh  feafon  reigns : 
 But  ah  !  the  fad  detefted  gueft 
 Still  keeps  its  empire  in  my  bread ; 
 For  in  the  abfence  of  the  fair. 
 Doubt,  anguilli,  jealoufy,  defpair. 
 Make  an  eternal  winter  there. 
 
 BAPHNIS, 
 
on  Several  Occasions.     167 
 
 DJPHNIS^  to  whom  by  gentle  heav'n 
 The  blifs  I  languifh  for  is  giv'n. 
 Who  all  thofe  beauties  canft  admire. 
 That  fet  my  longing  foul  on  fire, 
 And  gaze  on  thofe  bewitching  eyes. 
 For  whofe  dear  light  poor  Strepbon  dies. 
 And  thofe  tender  accents  hear, 
 "Which  wound  the  heart,  and  charm  the  ear ; 
 Gaze  not  on  thofe  eyes  too  long, 
 Nor  liften  to  her  tempting  tongue, 
 Left  all  thy  foul  their  influence  prove. 
 And  friendfhip  yield  to  mightier  love. 
 Call  all  that  friendfhip  to  thy  aid. 
 And  tell,  oh!  tell  the  lovely  maid. 
 With  all  thy  eloquence  and  art. 
 What  racking  forrows  rend  my  heart : 
 Tell  her  how  I  wafte  away 
 In  never-ceafing  moans  the  day  ; 
 Wafte  in  woes  the  tedious  night. 
 Yet  curfe  the  dull,  ungrateful  light,  ^ 
 
 That  brings  not  Delia  to  my  fight.  j 
 
 Each  fun  with  fainter  beams  appears, 
 Tho'  ev'ry  breaft  but  mine  it  chears  s 
 And  till  from  her  my  foul  receive 
 The  joys  that  ftie  alone  can  give. 
 While  all  things  fmile  around,  I  grieve. 
 Tell  her — But  ah  !  I  ask  in  vain 
 Thy  aid  to  tell  my  am'rous  pain, 
 Tho'  none  with  nicer  judgment  knows. 
 
 To  paint  diftrefs,  and  talk  of  woes. 
 
 Can  artful  tales  my  griefs  exprels? 
 
 ^ 
 
 Ev'n  moving  numbers  make  them  lefs. 
 
 Not 
 
268  POEMS 
 
 Not  all  the  mufes  can  infpire. 
 
 Nor  the  great  God  that  tunes  the  lyre. 
 
 With  all  his  force  and  all  his  fire  •, 
 
 Not  ev'n  her  own  immortal  lays. 
 
 Sacred  to  glory  and  to  praife. 
 
 And  of  eternity  fecure. 
 
 Can  paint  the  torments  I  endure. 
 
 O  could  the  ch^uming  maid  but  know 
 
 Part  of  the  pains  I  undergo, 
 
 Pains  to  none  but  lovers  known, 
 
 And  guels  my  fuflf'rings  by  her  own  1 
 
 Ye  verdant  plains,  ye  flow'ry  hills. 
 
 Ye  little,  gentle,  murm'ring  rills. 
 
 Ye  peaceful  fhades  and  filent  groves. 
 
 Scenes  of  foft  reft  and  rural  loves, 
 
 Say,  for  you  beft  her  fecrets  know. 
 
 And  oft'  have  heard  her  tuneful  woe, 
 
 is  the  bright  charmer  ever  kind  ? 
 
 Is  Strephon  always  in  her  mind  ? 
 
 Does  fhe  not  teach  the  rocks  my  name? 
 
 On  wounded  barks  infcribe  her  flame? 
 
 To  the  attentive  bending  boughs, 
 
 Whifper  a  thoufand  am'rous  vows  ? 
 
 Chide  the  dull  lagging  hours  away> 
 
 And  in  foft  fighs  accufe  my  ftay  ? 
 
 Zephyrs  bear  the  charmer's  fighs. 
 
 Waft  them  gently  to  the  skies; 
 
 Hear  them,  ye  little  Gods  of  love. 
 
 And  all  ye  awful  pow'rs  above  j 
 
 In  your  own  regifters  record 
 
 Each  am'rous  vow,  and  melting  word  j 
 
 } 
 
 That 
 
on  Several  Occasions.     269 
 
 That  firm,  unfliaken  they  may  be. 
 As  the  ftern  laws  of  deftiny. 
 And  the  dear  pafTion  may  remaia 
 Fix'd  as  your  own  eternal  reign. 
 
 DAPHNIS,  deareft  youth,  excufe 
 The  roving  tranfports  of  the  mufe  *, 
 If,  while  fantaftic  joys  Ihe  feigns. 
 To  eafe  her  real,  mighty  pains, 
 Joys  too  glorious  to  conceive. 
 Too  vaft  to  hope,  or  to  believe, 
 Unmindful  for  a  while  Ihe  be 
 Of  facred  friendfhip  and  of  thee. 
 Friendihip's  holy  link,  that  binds 
 In  ftrideft  ties  the  nobleft  minds. 
 My  grateful  foul  fhall  never  break: 
 For  thee  a  thoufand  vows  I  make. 
 And  for  thy  blifs,  my  conftant  care, 
 I  tire  the  gracious  Gods  with  pray'r. 
 
 Thro'  all  thy  life  mayft  thou  poflefs 
 Uninterrupted  happinefs ; 
 Serene  may  every  fun  arife. 
 To  light  thee  to  fuccefTive  joys  v 
 May  ev'ry  hour  glide  fmooth  away, 
 And  fmiling  as  a  fummer's  day. 
 No  anxious  thoughts  diftrad  thy  bread, 
 And  no  unpleafing  dreams  infeft 
 Thy  downy  flecp  and  filken  reft. 
 Whene'er  thou  lov'd,  be  light  thy  chain. 
 And  gentle  thy  fair  tyrant's  reign  ; 
 Soft  and  melting  may  flie  be, 
 Artlefs,  innocent  and  free;  And 
 
270  POEMS 
 
 And  in  one  word  to  fum  the  reft. 
 That  thou  mayft  be  completely  bleft ; 
 In  mind,  in  form,  in  mien,  in  air 
 As  near  with  Delia  to  compare, 
 As  Heav'n  can  make  another  fair. 
 
 Ye  pow'rs,  (if  any  pow'rs  there  be. 
 That  mind  fo  mean  a  wretch  as  me) 
 From  your  exalted  llation  hear. 
 And  lillen  to  my  humble  pray'r. 
 Your  choiceft  gifts  on  Anna  fhed. 
 Deck  with  frefh  laurels  Marlbro^s  head  j 
 Let  the  vaft  minds  that  guide  the  ftate 
 Be  without  crime  or  envy  great : 
 In  lower  fpheres  my  wifhes  move, 
 I  ask  no  other  blifs  but  love. 
 Let  fullen  ftars  refufe  to  blefs 
 My  meaner  aims  at  happinefs ; 
 Let  envious  fortune  blaft  my  toil. 
 And  all  things  frown,  if  Delia  fmile. 
 Tremble  mean  fouls,  when  lightnings  fly. 
 And  thunders  rend  the  diilant  sky  j 
 Secure  the  rifing  Itorm  I'll  wait. 
 And  brave  the  malice  of  my  fate : 
 Only  let  the  tender  fair 
 Eafe  the  fuff'rings  I  mufl  bear, 
 With  gentle  pity  cure  my  fmart, 
 Appeafe  each  horror  in  my  heart. 
 Indulge  my  hopes,  allow  my  fires, 
 And  own  the  pafTion  fhe  infpires  5 
 While  I  eternal  vows  repeat. 
 And  die  in  raptures  at  her  feet. 
 
 Pardon, 
 
on  Several  Occasions.     271 
 
 Pardon,  BaphniSy  flill  I  rove  \ 
 Whatever  fubjed:  I  would  prove. 
 Still  I  return  to  her  and  love. 
 Delia's  my  everlafting  theme. 
 My  waking  thought,  my  nightly  dream : 
 For  her  alone  I  touch  the  ftring. 
 For  her  in  artlefs  numbers  fing ; 
 I  neither  court,  nor  hope  the  bays. 
 Too  blefl  if  fhe  accept  my  lays. 
 Pity  the  weak  unable  mufe. 
 And  what  fhe  cannot  praife  excufe. 
 Thou  too,  my  friend,  content  receive 
 The  wretched  prefents  I  can  give. 
 The  feeble  mufe  unpradis'd  fings 
 In  humble  notes  of  humble  things. 
 Perhaps,  when  the  black  llorms  blow  o'er,         ^ 
 When  the  waves  gently  kifs  the  fhore,  C 
 
 .And  wars  and  tumults  are  no  more ;  ^ 
 
 When  peace  with  balmy  wings  fhall  fmile. 
 And  brood  aufpicious  on  our  ifle  ; 
 My  foul  with  the  bright  profped  fir'd. 
 With  nobler  warmth  fhall  be  infpir'd. 
 With  new-born  ftrength  fhall  dare  to  rife. 
 And  in  bold  flights  attempt  the  skies. 
 Paint  all  the  gay,  tranfporting  fcene. 
 And  fing  the  Hero  and  the  Queen: 
 Then  with  juft  fires,  and  loftier  lays, 
 Pll  fpeak  my  friendfhip,  and  thy  praife ; 
 Great  as  my  theme  my  force  fhall  be. 
 And  all  my  numbers  worthy  thee. 
 
 DAVIo'i 
 
ty%  POEMS 
 
 D A  V  I D'i  Lamentation  over  Saul  and 
 
 Jo  NATHAN. 
 2  Sam.  Chap,  I. 
 
 OFFSPRING  of  JfraeU  by  peculiar  grace, 
 Diftinguifh'd  from  the  reft  of  human  race. 
 With  fplendid  names  and  haughty  titles  proud, 
 Fav'rites  of  heav'n,  the  chofen  feed  of  God  ; 
 Too  bleft  while  Saul  your  conqu'ring  armies  led. 
 And  Jonathan  commanded  at  their  head  ; 
 With  a  long  train  of  fhining  glories  crown'd. 
 The  envy  and  the  dread  of  all  the  nations  round; 
 Now  prefs'd  beneath  a  lofs  without  relief. 
 And  only  great  and  eminent  in  grief; 
 In  all  the  pomp  of  moving  forrow  come. 
 To  pay  vain  honours  at  your  prince's  tomb. 
 Tour  beauty  and  your  glory  loft  deplore  : 
 The  great  are  faWn^  the  mighty  are  no  more. 
 Let  all  mankind  the  glorious  dead  bemoan. 
 From  pole  to  pole  be  the  wide  ruin  known. 
 Ye  gentle  ftreams,  with  your  kind  waves  diffufe 
 Throughout  the  realms  you  blefs,  the  difmal  news. 
 And  bid  th'unbounded  waters,  as  they  flow. 
 Convey  to  worlds  unknown  the  mighty  woe. 
 Winds,  that  in  tempefts  heav'n's  juft  wrath  declare. 
 And  you  that  in  foft  murmurs  fan  the  air. 
 In  all  your  fleeting  courfes  thro'  the  sky. 
 Bear  on  your  wings  our  lofs,  and  fpread  it  as  you  fly : 
 Only  of  Gath  and  Afcalon  beware. 
 
 Nor  whifper  out  the  fatal  fecret  there  -, 
 
 Lefl: 
 
on  Several  Occasions.      273 
 
 Left  the  detefted  race,  our  ancient  hate. 
 
 Hear  the  fl^d  found,  and  triumph  in  our  fate. 
 
 Ah  !  'tis  in  vain,  the  long  untafted  joys 
 
 Already  fill  their  minds  with  glad  furprize. 
 
 Glow  in  their  cheeks,  and  fparkle  in  their  eyes. 
 
 The  vile  idolaters  the  temples  crowd. 
 
 With  coftly  fpices  ev'ry  altar  load  ; 
 
 And  while  the  sky's  obfcur'd  with  fragrant  fmoke. 
 
 Their  fenfelefs  fancied  deities  invoke. 
 
 Their  impious  madnefs  openly  proclaim. 
 
 And  loud  blafpheme  x}^* unutterable  name. 
 
 "With  niceft  art  the  unbelieving  fair 
 
 Give  a  new  luftre  to  each  tempting  air. 
 
 Point  ev'ry  dart,  and  level  all  ther  charms, 
 
 To  win  fome  haughty  warrior  to  their  arms. 
 
 O'er  fomc  great  chief  an  eafy  conqueft  gain. 
 
 And  drag  the  conqu'ror  in  a  willing  chain. 
 
 The  barb'rous  poets  tune  their  loftieft  lays. 
 
 To  reach  \vi  awkward  notes  the  vidor's  praife ; 
 
 In  artlefs  numbers  celebrate  the  day. 
 
 And  boaft  of  vid'ry  and  of  Gilhoa, 
 
 Gilhoa  !  curft  mount !  thou  ever  hated  ground, 
 
 To  after-times  by  our  defeat  renown'd  ! 
 
 No  more  on  thee  let  facred  incenfe  rife. 
 
 Perfume  the  ncighb'ring  plains,  and  glut  the  greedy 
 
 skies ; 
 No  more  on  thee  let  gentle  dews  defcend. 
 Nor  heav'n  of  fruitful  fhow'rs  the  fuccour  lend  ; 
 The  defart  earth  nor  fruits,  nor  herbage  know. 
 But  all  be  wild  and  barren  as  our  woe ! 
 Since  upon  thee  our  princes  fell,  the  fhield 
 Vilely  abandon'd  on  thy  guilty  field ! 
 
 Vol.  IL  T  thou 
 
274  P    O    E    M    S 
 
 'Thou  faw^ft  the  dreadful  rum  we  deplore^ 
 On  thee  the  great  are  fall' n^  the  mighty  are  no  more, 
 O  ^aul !  O  Jonathan !  illuilrious  pair  ! 
 How  great !  how  good  !  how  excellent  you  were.! 
 In  peace  our  only  pleafure  and  delight, 
 Our  only  fafety  and  defence  in  fight ! 
 Philiftia  oft'  has  felt  Saul's  mighty  hand 
 Scattering  wide  defolation  o'er  the  land  ; 
 Nor  lefs  the  force  o{  Jonathan  has  mourn'd, 
 Whofe  fword  ne'er  empty  to  its  {heath  return'd ; 
 But  deeply  ftain'd,  and  glutted  well  with  gore. 
 The  nobleft  and  the  beil  the  hated  nation  bore. 
 Lefs  fwift  the  eagle  bears  his  prize  away, 
 Lefs  fierce  the  lion  rends  the  panting  prey. 
 Alike  their  skill,  alike  their  matchlefs  art,  ^ 
 
 To  twang  the  far-refounding  bow,  and  dart         ^ 
 The  never-erring  jav'lin  to  the  heart : 
 Alike  they  dar'd,  and  fought,  and  overcame, 
 The  fame  their  martial  fire  and  thirft  of  fame  % 
 Ah,  that  their  haplefs  end  fhould  alfo  be  the  fame  ! 
 That  haplefs  end  we  ever  mufl  deplore^ 
 The  great  arefaWn,  the  mighty  are  no  more. 
 Ye  num'rous  fair  that  IfraeVs  court  adorn. 
 Above  the  reft  your  prince,  your  monarch  mourn ; 
 For  yours  he  was,  ftoop'd  to  your  pow'r  alone. 
 Your  pow'r  that  only  could  exceed  his  own. 
 How  was  he  pleas'd  when  he  fromconqueft  came, 
 Crown'd  with  frefh  laurels  and  eternal  fame, 
 A  fair,  a  radiant  chxle  to  behold, 
 Clad  in  rich  filk,  and  proud  in  pompous  gold  ! 
 Who  ftopt  the  noify  triumph  in  its  way. 
 
 And  made  the  greateft  fplendor  of  the  day  5 
 
 °  Who 
 
on  Several  Occasions.     275 
 
 Who  in  foft  numbers,  and  melodious  lays, 
 Made  heav*n's  wide  arch  refound  the  conqu'ror's 
 
 praife  ; 
 And  by  the  charming  mufic  of  their  tongue. 
 Added  new  glories  to  the  deeds  they  fung ; 
 Who  with  kind  love  could  foften  all  his  care. 
 And  more  than  recompenfe  the  fullen  toils  of  war. 
 How  have  you  drove  t'avert  the  fate  we  mourn ! 
 Afcending  fpices  on  each  hill  did  burn, 
 And  heav'n  was  tir'd  with  vows  for  his  return. 
 In  vain,  alas !  you  vow'd,  in  vain  you  pray'd. 
 In  vain  your  unavailing  ofF'rings  paid  ; 
 Heav'n,  by  our  crimes  incenft,  refus'd  your  pray'r. 
 And  bad  the  wanton  winds  difperfe  it  in  the  air. 
 At  lead,  lament  the  prince  you  could  not  fave. 
 Shed  a  foft  tear  in  pity  on  his  grave ; 
 Sufpend  a  while  the  conquefts  of  your  eyes. 
 And  in  true  woe  and  unafFefled  fighs. 
 Pay  your  lalt  homage  at  his  obfequies : 
 
 ^he  vaft^  the  tiniverfal  lofs  deplore^ 
 '    The  great  are  fairn^  the  mighty  are  7io  more. 
 But  my  wild  grief  no  limits  e*er  fhall  know. 
 Who  to  the  public  join  a  private  woe : 
 Ne'er  till  my  forrows  with  my  life  fhall  end, 
 I'll  ceafe  to  mourn  my  brother  and  my  friend. 
 O  Jonathan !  like  thee  none  ever  knew 
 To  pay  a  debt  to  facred  friendfhip  due : 
 *Tis  not  in  words  or  numbers  to  exprefs 
 Thy  vaft,  thy  unexampled  tendernefs. 
 Not  the  foft  maid,  but  lately  taught  to  prove 
 The  wild  diforders  of  unruly  love  j 
 
 T  2  Tho' 
 
276  POEMS 
 
 Tho'  the  fierce  paflion  reigns  throughout  hfj  f^amc. 
 And  all  her  foul  is  melting  in  the  flame, 
 E'er  felt  a  love  like  that  which  thou  haft  fhown. 
 Soft  as  the  tender  fex,  and  manly  as  thy  own: 
 Yet  thou  art  fall'n,  alas !  no  more  to  rife. 
 And  death's  cold  ileep  fits  heavy  on  thine  eyes. 
 Howe'er  thy  name  fhall  live,  the  world  fhall  know 
 What  to  thy  honoured  memory  I  owe : 
 To  all  the  wond'ring  people  I'll  rehearfe 
 Thy  deathlefs  glories,  in  no  vulgar  verfe. 
 Thou  in  the  firft  and  nobleft  rank  fhalt  ftand 
 Of  conftant  friends,  a  rare,  but  Ihining  band! 
 Where-e'er  unhappy  virtue  meets  renown, 
 Where-e'er  the  name  of  love  or  friendfhip's  known. 
 Thou  fhalt  be  ever  fung ;  taught  by  my  lays, 
 Old  men  fnall  figh,  and  infants  lifp  thy  praife. 
 And  ev'ry  age  and  nation  Jhall  deplore 
 ^he  great  men  faWn^  the  mighty  now  no  more. 
 
 To  Daphnis,     An  Epijlle. 
 
 T\dPHNIS,  among  my  deareft  friends  approv'd. 
 
 And  more  by  me  than  thy  own  mufes  lov'd, 
 
 Whofe  parts  mature  in  nature's  early  bloom. 
 
 Give  certain  hopes  of  miracles  to  come, 
 
 Of  tender  eloquence,  and  gentle  lays. 
 
 And  females  crown'd  with  everlailing  bays: 
 
 To  thee  I  fing,  than  whom  none  more  can  know 
 
 From  a  fofc  lyre  what  hcav'nly  numbers  flow. 
 
 Thou 
 
^^qK  Several  Occasions.      277 
 
 Thou  fcorn'll  with  me  thofebrutesjwho  rudely  wife, 
 
 The  whole  creation's  fairelt  part  defpife  -, 
 
 Thou  too  haft  felt  their  pow'r,  and  own'd  theirl 
 
 conqu'ring  eyes : 
 Thou  too  with  me  wilt  humble  altars  raife. 
 Nor  blame  my  theme,  nor  envy  at  my  praife. 
 
 Oft'  have  the  mufes  their  own  fex  infpir'd. 
 And  with  a  more  than  mortal  ardor  fir'd. 
 Taught  them  in  wit  and  numbers  to  excel. 
 Nor  yield  to  man  alone  the  praife  of  writing  well. 
 Corinna  rival'd  Pindar*^  nobleft  lays. 
 And  gain'd  by  merit  the  contefted  bays. 
 Old  Greece  the  charming  Sappho  did  adore. 
 And  hardly  boafted  in  her  Homer  more : 
 Still  with  her  fires  the  love-fick  virgins  burn  ; 
 Her  lays  they  fing,  her  tender  griefs  they  mourn ; 
 Still  celebrate  her  love  and  her  defpair. 
 And  curfe  the  villain  that  betray'd  the  fair; 
 
 Of  all  the  nymphs  the  Roman  empire  bore. 
 When  great  Auguftus  held  the  fov'reign  pow'r. 
 None  could  Sulpitia  equal,  fhe  alone 
 Of  beauty  and  of  wit  could  claim  the  throne  5 
 With  ev'ry  grace  and  ev'ry  mufe  adorn'd, 
 A  thoufand  flaves  fhe  made,  a  thoufand  fcorn'd, 
 And  in  wild  fires  for  coy  Cerinthus  burn'd : 
 He  only  her  fofc  meafures  could  infpire. 
 For  him  fhe  fung,  for  him  fhe  tun'd  her  lyre. 
 Long  fince  death  ended  the  fair  tyrant's  reign ; 
 Now  not  the  ruins  of  her  charms  remain ; 
 
 T  3  Devouring 
 
278 
 
 POEMS 
 
 Devouring  time  has  moulderM  all  away. 
 Nor  left  one  atom  of  diftinguifh'd  clay  : 
 Yet  (till  the  charmer  in  her  verfe  ihall  live. 
 And  fhall  to  all  eternity  furvive; 
 Still  in  her  lays  immortal  beauties  fhine, 
 And  kindle  love  and  fire  in  every  line. 
 
 BRITAIN^  next  Greece  and  Italy  renown'4 
 For  artful  fongs,  adiff'rent  fortune  found. 
 When  ancient  Chaucer  in  unpolifh'd  verfe 
 Did  wond'rous  tales  with  wond'rous  art  rehearfe  5 
 When  Spencer  in  a  myftic  fairy  fcene, 
 Proclaim'd  the  glories  of  the  Virgin  ^leen ; 
 When  the  gvQ2LiShakefpear  charm'd  the  lift 'ning  ftage. 
 With  Juliet''^  fofcnefs,  and  Othello' %  rage  i 
 When  furly  Ben  with  nicer  judgment  writ, 
 And  bore  from  Greece  and  Rome  the  prize  of  comiq 
 
 wit  j 
 No  females  could  afpire  to  equal  praife: 
 Then  men  alone  poffefs'd  the  envy'd  bays. 
 With  haughty  majefty  unrlval'd  flione. 
 Nor  fear'd  a  fhe-pretender  to  the  throne. 
 
 At  lafl  ('twas  long  indeed  !)  Orinda  came. 
 To  ages  yet  to  come  an  ever-glorious  name  ; 
 To  virtuous  themes  her  v/ell-tun'd  lyre  fhe  ftrung. 
 Of  virtuous  themes  in  eafy  numbers  fung. 
 Horace  and  Pompey  in  her  lines  appear  J 
 
 W^ith  all  the  worth  that  Rome  did  once  revere  i     J' 
 Much  to  Corneille  they  owe,  and  much  to  her :     3 
 Her  thoughts,  her  numbers,  and  her  fire  the  fame. 
 She  foar'd  as  high,  and  cqual'd  all  his  fiime  j; 
 
 Tho' 
 
on  Several  Occasions.      279 
 
 Tho'  France  adores  the  bard,  nor  envies  Greece 
 The  coftly  bufkins  of  her  Sophocles, 
 More  we  expeded,  but  untimely  death 
 Soon  ftopt  her  rifing  glories  with  her  breath. 
 In  her  youth's  prime  the  charming  virgin  dy'd  :. 
 Aftrcea  well  Orinda's  place  fupply'd. 
 Phosbus  did  ne'er  before  a  breaft  infpire 
 With  larger  portions  of  poetic  fire : 
 On  ev'ry  fubjed  fhe  her  art  could  prove, 
 Well  on  each  fubjed  fung,  but  bed  of  love  ; 
 At  once  Ihe  fung,  and  felt  the  pleafing  fmart. 
 Love  in  her  numbers  reign'd ,  and  lorded  in  her  heart. 
 With  what  amazing  force  the  charmer  writes 
 Of  the  dear  paflion,  and  its  fierce  delights! 
 Lefs  tender  fires  the  Cyprian  Goddefs  moves, 
 Lefs  foft  the  am'rous  cooings  of  her  doves. 
 Warm'd  by  her  moving  lays  the  cruel  fair 
 Learn  to  put  on  a  more  relenting  air, 
 Indulge  their  lovers  hopes,  and  pity  their  defpair 
 Chill  age  is  fir'd  to  unaccuftom'd  heats. 
 The  curdling  blood  a  vig'rous  courfe  repeats. 
 And  ev'ry  pulfe  with  youthful  ardor  beats. 
 O  !  had  chafte  tranfports  fill'd  her  virtuous  mind. 
 And  to  permitted  pleafures  moil  inclin'd, 
 Sappho  had  yielded  to  her  nobler  fame. 
 And  only  Philo?nel's  had  been  a  brighter  name : 
 But  while  too  oft  her  guilty  fancy  roves 
 To  loofe  defires,  and  wild,  diforder'd  loves  5 
 Unheeding  minds  with  lewd  ideas  warms. 
 And  gives  adultery  and  incefl  charms  ; 
 The  good  and  chafte  abhor  the  vitious  lays. 
 And  hate  the  beauties  they  are  forc'd  to  praife. 
 
 T  4  Goddess 
 
28o  POEMS 
 
 Goddess  of  harmony,  thy  fuccour  brkg. 
 While  I  thy  darling  Philomela  fing  ! 
 In  vain  I  call,  nor  hears  the  mufe  my  pray'r, 
 Hurry'd  away  by  winds,  and  loft  in  air  : 
 Nor,  did  fhe  hear,  would  ought  her  aid  avail. 
 Beneath  the  mighty  theme  all  numbers  fail  -, 
 All  numbers  flag  beneath  her,  but  her  own  j 
 She  is  fufficient  to  herfelf  alone. 
 Heav'ns !  how  fhe  charms !  how  graceful  is  her  mien ! 
 Her  countenance  how  like  her  mind  ferene ! 
 Youth's  livelieft  bloom,  a  never-fading  grace, 
 And  more  than  beauty  fparkles  in  her  face. 
 How  foon  the  willing  heart  her  empire  feels ! 
 Each  look,  each  air,  each  melting  accent  kills. 
 Yet  the  bright  form  creates  no  loofe  defires  •, 
 At  once  fhe  gives,  and  purifies  our  fires, 
 And  pafTions  chafte  as  her  own  foul  infpires : 
 Her  foul,  heav'n's  nobleft  workmanfliip,  defign'd 
 To  blefs  a  ruin'd  age,  and  fuccour  loft  mankind, 
 To  prop  abandon'd  virtue's  fmking  caufe. 
 To  fnatch  from  vice  its  undeferv'd  applaufe. 
 To  lead  in  piety's  forfaken  ways. 
 By  bright  example,  and  celeftial  lays. 
 With  what  high  tranfport  in  thofe  lays  we  find 
 Exprefs'd  the  image  of  her  godlike  mind? 
 JIow  fmooth  her  ftrains !  how  eafy  flow  her  lines! 
 Throughout  the  whole  how  vaft  a  genius  fhines  1 
 Whatever  fhe  writes,  in  ev'ry  part  we  fee 
 Jlft recaps  fire,  Orinda^s  purity  *, 
 And  while  her  greater  glories  we  admire, 
 Ljcfs  pura's  Orinda^s  verfe,  lefs  fierce /^r^^'s  fire. 
 
 If 
 
on  Several  Occasions.     281 
 
 If  ftie  defcribes  the  youthful  conqu'ror's  charms. 
 
 That  gave  her  Hberty  unknown  alarms ; 
 
 If  of  the  faithlefs  'Theron  ihe  complains. 
 
 And  fir'd  with  juft  refentment  breaks  her  chains; 
 
 Our  fouls  with  her  begin,  and  ceafe  to  love. 
 
 And  ev*ry  paflion  learns  from  her  to  move: 
 
 Or  if  Ihe  rather  tries  the  rural  lays. 
 
 And  in  a  country  drefs  immortal  charms  difplays; 
 
 Our  fouls  th'enchanting  founds  tranfported  hear. 
 
 Nor  Mantua  now,  nor  Skily  prefer : 
 
 With  her  we  feek  the  defolate  abodes. 
 
 The  fimple  manfions  of  the  ruftic  Gods; 
 
 We  (hun  the  city,  and  we  court  the  woods. 
 
 If  fhe  with  "Taffo  fings  the  Chriftian  chief. 
 
 Who,  fent  by  heav'n  to  a  loft  realm's  relief. 
 
 While  hell  and  hellilh  men  in  vain  withftand. 
 
 Freed  from  bafe  fervitude  the  holy  land; 
 
 Or  in  a  fofter  and  more  melting  ftrain. 
 
 Repeats  thro'  ev'ry  grove,  and  ev'ry  plain. 
 
 The  conflant  pafiion  of  the  faithful  fwaiw, 
 
 Unnumber'd  beauties  in  each  part  we  view. 
 
 And  graces  Italy  itfelf  ne'er  knew : 
 
 Odier  tranflations  we  faint  copies  call. 
 
 But  what  fhe  writes  is  all  original. 
 
 But  when  in  more  exalted  lays  fhe  brings 
 
 A  pious  off'ring  to  the  King  of  kings. 
 
 Not  purer  fweets  Sabean  hills  fupply. 
 
 Or  with  more  grateful  odours  glad  the  sky. 
 
 The  feraphs  hover  in  the  ambient  air, 
 
 Js^or  think  a  mortal  form  inhabits  there ; 
 
 A'maz'd, 
 
282  POEMS 
 
 Amaz'd,  awhile  they  leave  the  flarry  throne, 
 To  fee  on  earth  fo  pure  devotion  Ihown, 
 And  wonder  at  a  ftrain  fo  very  like  their  own. 
 
 DAPHNIS^  dear  youth,  to  whom  propitious 
 %  heav'n 
 
 A  kind  retreat  from  noife  and  cares  has  giv'n, 
 Near  the  calm  feat,  pure  ftream,  and  verdant  fhade, 
 Bleft  by  the  prefence  of  the  matchlefs  maid  5 
 Content  enjoy  the  bleffings  of  thy  fate. 
 Pity  the  wretches  who  are  curfl  and  great. 
 Let  the  proud  Gaul  for  boundlefs  fway  contend, 
 Till  with  his  life  his  dire  ambition  end  j 
 'Tis  more  than  empire  to  be  Singer* s  friend  ! 
 O  would  hard  fortune,  which  has  fix'd  me  down 
 To  the  detefted  hurries  of  the  town. 
 Relenting  change  my  haplefs  deftiny, 
 Grant  fome  few  lucky  hours,  and  make  me  blefl  like 
 
 thee ! 
 I'd  to  the  charming  folitude  repair. 
 There  wait  a  glad  attendant  on  the  fair. 
 There  on  her  lovely  lips  with  tranfport  dwell, 
 And  catch  each  tender  accent  as  it  fell  -, 
 Till  new  inform'd,  and  kindling  from  her  eyes, 
 Sure  ev'n  my  grov'ling  foul  fhould  learn,  at  length, 
 
 to  rife. 
 Then  in  each  grove,  near  ev'ry  purling  ftream. 
 Bright  Philomel  fhould  be  my  conflant  theme. 
 In  numbers  like  her  own  the  nymph  I'd  praife. 
 And  equal  the  vafl  fubject  with  my  lays. 
 The  fylvan  Gods  to  hear  my  notes  fhould  throng. 
 And  filcnt  rivers  liflen  to  my  fong; 
 
 To 
 
on  Several  Occasions,      28^ 
 
 To  all  the  hills,  and  vales,  and  groves  around 
 The  babbling  echo  Ihould  repeat  the  found. 
 And  Amaryllu'  ftlf  be  lefs  renown'd. 
 
 An  Epijile  to  Climene. 
 Imitated  from  the   French  of  Madafn^  Des 
 
 HOULIERES. 
 
 ST  Il-L  mud  wc  mourn  your  abfence?  flill  com- 
 plain. 
 And  court  you  from  your  fad  retreat  in  vain  ? 
 When  teeming  earth  with  fruitful  moifture  fed. 
 Brings  forth  new  flow'rs  to  deck  the  paths  you  tread ; 
 When  each  returning  morn  fhines  doubly  bright, 
 And  each  cool  ev'ning  brings  a  charmi 
 The  country  fhades  may  yield  a  foft  deli 
 But  when  o'er  all  the  favage  winter  reigns. 
 Makes  bare  the  groves,  and  defolate  the  plains; 
 When  nature's  face  is  chang'd,  and  ev'ry  day 
 Snatches  fome  poor,  decaying  charm  away, 
 •Tis  downright  madnefs,  Climene^  to  Hay. 
 What  new  unheard-of  pleafures  can  you  find  ? 
 What  flrange  delights  to  entertain  your  mind  ? 
 Or  do  important  reafons  force  your  will. 
 And  to  the  gloomy  fcene  confine  you  flill? 
 I  guefs  the  mighty  caufe  :  You  fear  to  prove. 
 In  this  vile  town,  the  dreadful  thing  call'd  love. 
 The  little  tyrant  reigns  amidft  the  fport. 
 The  fmiles  and  pleafures  of  the  town  and  court : 
 
 Nor 
 
 3ly  bright,^ 
 ling  night,  (. 
 elight;      j 
 
284  P    O.E   M    S 
 
 Nor  only  there,  him  ev'n  the  wilds  obey. 
 
 And  country  defarts  own  his  awful  fway. 
 
 In  vain  to  woods  and  folitudes  we  fly. 
 
 In  vain  the  city  change  for  purer  sky  ; 
 
 ^lore  dang'rous  ev'n  than  courts,  the  fhades  may 
 
 ^  prove, 
 
 And  with  more  eafe  admit  th'invader  love. 
 
 Wild  was  the  place,  and  favage  all  around. 
 
 Where  hn  Angelica  young  Medor  found  ; 
 
 Severe  the  dame,  and  grave,  and  fternly  coy, 
 
 Am'rous,  and  fofc,  and  tender  was  the  boy : 
 
 You  know  the  reft.— Then  hafte  from  your  abodes. 
 
 Leave  the  weak  Ihelter  of  the  fields  and  woods: 
 
 0  come,  and  in  a  thoufand  breafts  infpire 
 Succefslefs  rage,  and  unavailing  fire  ; 
 
 Nor  dread  th'efl^edls  of  all  their  treach'rous  arts. 
 Their  boafted  ftratagems  to  conquer  hearts; 
 Unlefs  the  fates  affift,  their  moving  tale 
 Will  never  o'er  your  native  cold  prevail. 
 To  prove  this  true,  believe  the  tale  I  tell. 
 Not  oracles  more  facred  truths  reveal. 
 
 As  wand'ring  penfive  thro'  the  filent  groves, 
 
 1  meditate  my  forrows  and  my  loves, 
 Baphnis^  the  terror  of  our  woods,  I  view  5 
 A  mightier  name  love's  empire  never  knew: 
 None  e'er  fo  well  a  haughty  breaft  could  tame. 
 Or  warm  to  fires  unknown  the  coldeft  dame. 
 Proftrate  before  a  heedlefs  fair  he  lies. 
 
 Sheds  fruitlefs  tears,  and  waftes  a  thoufand  fighs; 
 Then  love  and  forrow  pleading  in  his  look. 
 Thus  to  the  cruel  nymph  the  charmer  fpoke. 
 
 How 
 
on  Several  Occasions.     285 
 
 How  long,  my  fair,  will  you  your  fate  delay  ?^ 
 Still  will  you  idly  wafte  the  precious  day. 
 And  in  indiflf'rence  loiter  life  away  ? 
 Hear  always  with  contempt  my  tender  theme, 
 Defpife  love's  pleafures,  and  his  pow'r  blafphemc  ? 
 Ah,  no!  the  joys  my  paflion  courts  in  vain. 
 Another  Ihepherd  with  more  eafe  will  gain  •, 
 His  happier  flame  will  your  fierce  pride  remove. 
 Subdue  your  (lubborn  heart,  and  melt  it  all  to  love. 
 All  nature  owns  the  God :  In  barb'rous  plains. 
 Where  half  the  year  is  night,  and  cold  eternal  reigns. 
 The  frozen  race  is  warm'd  to  foft  defires. 
 And  feels  in  ev'ry  vein  the  genial  fires. 
 However  diftant,  the  dread  hour  muft  come. 
 Which  all  your  fading  beauties  will  refume  : 
 Then  in  a  juft  revenge,  th'offended  boy 
 May  give  his  fufF*rings,  and  with-hold  his  joy  \ 
 Send  a  frefh  warmth,  as  ev'ry  charm  decays. 
 And  wild  defires  you  want  the  pow'r  to  raife. 
 Ah,  nymph  1  the  horror  of  this  fate  prevent, 
 Appeafe  the  angry  God,  and  yet  in  time  repent. 
 Let  taftlefs  age  th'ecftatic  blifs  defpife. 
 Grow  coldly  grave,  and  ftoically  wife  ; 
 Do  you,  my  fair,  while  blooming  youth  invites 
 To  warmer  fentiments,  and  gay  delights. 
 Your  fcorn  and  dull  indiff'rence  difpofleft. 
 Receive  the  gentle  tyrant  to  your  breaft  •, 
 Reward  a  conftant  flame,  and  yield  to  prove 
 The  mighty  tranfports  of  a  mutual  love: 
 No  other  folid  bleflings  mortals  know. 
 Nor  heav'n  can  on  its  fav'rites  more  bellow. 
 To  give  a  tafl:e  of  its  own  joys  below. 
 
 He 
 
286  POEMS 
 
 He  ceas'd.    The  neighboring  echoes  caught  the 
 found, 
 The  little  birds  lung  tender  notes  around ; 
 The  lifl*ning  waves  in  gentle  murmurs  move, 
 And  ev'ry  balmy  Zephyr  whifper'd  love : 
 Yet  her  cold  heart  in  filence  heard  his  pain  ; 
 When  the  heart's  filent,  all  things  fpeak  in  vain. 
 
 The    Caprice. 
 Frofn  the  fame. 
 
 NEAR  a  pure  flream,  beneath  a  cooling  fhade. 
 Charming  retreat !  the  penfive  Iris  ftray'd  -, 
 JriSy  a  name  to  diftant  nations  known, 
 By  her  fam'd  verfe's  beauties,  and  her  own  : 
 Heedlefs  (he  rov'd  -,  for  nor  the  murm'ring  found 
 Of  the  fmooth  waves,  nor  flow'rs  that  deck'd  the 
 
 ground. 
 Nor  the  birds  tender  fongs  could  charm  the  fair. 
 Or  eafe  her  gloomy  thoughts,  and  melancholy  care. 
 
 At  laft  fhe  cries,  Fond  love,  I  own  no  more 
 
 Thy  awful  tyranny,  and  boafted  pow'r; 
 
 No  more  thro'  thee  tumultuous  fears  arife. 
 
 Pain  my  torn  breaft,  and  fwell  my  ftreaming  eyes ; 
 
 A  native  coldnefs  reigns  in  ev'ry  part, 
 
 And  all  is  calm  and  quiet  in  my  heart : 
 
 But  ah  1  how  poorly  I  that  calmnefs  taite, 
 
 Forc'd  to  regret  ev'n  all  my  fuff'rings  pad  ! 
 
 Alas! 
 
on  Several  Occasions.     287 
 
 Alas !  th'unwary  foul  but  little  knows, 
 That  wifhes  for  the  bleffings  of  repofe; 
 In  the  fad  ftate  of  idlenefs  and  eafe. 
 When  nothing  bufies,  nothing  too  can  pleafe. 
 The  treacherous  tyrant,  love,  lefs  faintly  charms. 
 Sweet  are  his  ills,  and  pleafing  all  his  harms: 
 The  mind  each  moment  to  delights  improves; 
 For  all  is  pleafure  to  a  heart  that  loves, 
 in  what  a  tedious  round  of  griefs  he  lives. 
 Who,  wretched,  his  own  tendernefs  furvives  I 
 Can  one  who  ever  felt  an  am'rous  pain. 
 Unloving  life's  vexatious  load  fuftain  ? 
 Lofe  ev'ry  ling'ring  hour,  and  wafte  away. 
 In  dull,  unadive  indolence  the  day  ? 
 Ah,  no  !  return,  foft  God,  refume  thy  reign. 
 Bring  all  thy  fires  to  kindle  mine  again — - 
 Alas!  thou  wilt  not  come,  and  all  my  calls  are^ 
 vain.  J 
 
 Cruel '  thou  cam'ft  an  uninvited  gueft. 
 And  mad'ft,  unfought,  a  paffage  to  my  breaft: 
 Now  thou  canft  all  my  pray'rs  and  vows  defpifc. 
 And  fcorn  to  gain  a  weak,  inglorious  prize. 
 I  ask  not  for  the  tranfports  thofe  poffefs 
 Whom  thou  with  fmiling  fates,  and  mutual  loves 
 
 doft  blefs. 
 The  barb'rous,  charming  youth  that  rulM  my  heart, 
 Has  taught  me  all  thy  rigor,  and  thy  fmart ; 
 Hecdlefsof  mine,  in  other  flames  he  burns. 
 And  hate,  or  worfe  indifference  returns. 
 The  joy  of  being  lov'd  I  ne'er  can  prove  ; 
 I  ask  no  other  now,  but  that  of  love. 
 
 I 
 
 Have 
 
288  POEMS 
 
 Have  not  my  fears  and  my  alarms  been  vain  ? 
 How  am  I  fure  that  I  have  broke  my  chain  ? 
 Don't  I,  while  I  defire,  already  feel  the  pain  ? 
 What  fhall  I  do?  what  method  take  to  find 
 The  true  condition  of  my  floating  mind  ? 
 See,  while  I  fpeak,  the  dear  ungrateful  come  ! 
 His  prefence  clears  my  doubts,    and  fixes  all  my 
 
 doom. 
 I  view  the  lovely  fwain  ;  his  fight  infpires 
 Soft,  melting  thoughts, and  raging,  fierce  defircs, 
 And  all  my  foul  conceives  the  well-known  fires. 
 Welcome,  ye  boundlefs  griefs,  and  racking  pains ! 
 Welcome,  ye  ne'er-to-be-forgotten  chains  I 
 Amidft  confufion,  horror  and  defpair. 
 Studious  I'll  feed  the  dear  diftrading  care. 
 And  thank  thee,   gracious  love,  that  well  haftj 
 
 heurd  my  pray'r. 
 
 PINDARV 
 
on  Several  Occasions.     28^ 
 
 *PINDARV  Ode  to  Proserpine, 
 
 Tranjlafed  from  the  French  of  Monfeur 
 de  la  Motte. 
 
 InfcrWd  to  the  Rev.  Mr,  John  Ruffel. 
 
 I. 
 
 BRIDE  of  the  gloomy  king,  whofe  awful  fway 
 The  dreadful  realms  of  night  obey^ 
 By  unrelenting  fate  at  laft 
 Upon  thine  empire  I  am  caft. 
 The  dreary  banks  of  Slyx  I've  paft : 
 •Tis  time  my  faithful  fhade  ihould  pay 
 The  tributary  verfe  I  owe. 
 And  what  above  I  promis'd,  give  below, 
 Goddefsj  liften  to  thy  praife, 
 Liftcn  to  no  vulgar  lays, 
 Fix'd  in  dumb  attention  hear 
 The  nobleft  founds  that  ever  reach'd  thine  ear. 
 Not  the  fam'd  Thracian  bard,  who  bold  by  love, 
 
 Could  change  relentlefs  deftiny. 
 And  ev'n  thy  foul  to  tender  foftnefs  move. 
 E'er  touch'd  the  lyre  fo  well,  or  flrain'd  a  note 
 fo  high. 
 
 *  As  an  incorredt  copy  of  this  ode  of  Mr.  Rom's  has  been 
 lately  printed  under  the  name  of  another  gentleman,  who  pre- 
 tends not  only  to  have  correfted  feverai  errors,  but  to  have  really 
 Toritten  many  lines  in  itj  'tis  abfolutcly  neoefliry,  in  juftice  to 
 Mr.  Rorvey  to  affure  the  public  that  they  are  indebted  to  that 
 editor  for  no  more  than  two  lines,  and  the  alteration  of  a  very 
 few  words  in  this  poem  j  and  that  (excepting  the  removal  of 
 one  or  two  expletives)  it  is  now  publifhed  exadtly  as  the  author 
 wrote  it. 
 
 Vol.  II.  U  Lefs 
 
2go  POEMS 
 
 Lels  than  my  charming  numbers  pleafe 
 
 The  treach'rous  *  mules  of  the  feas  j 
 
 Tho'  with  an  art  unerring  they 
 
 The  lift'ning  mariners  betray  : 
 In  vain  before  their  eyes  they  view. 
 Deluded  wretches  their  own  death  purfue. 
 
 The  death  they  would  not  wifh  to  Ihun ; 
 Charm'd  to  the  fofc  delicious  fate  they  run. 
 And  long  to  be  themfelves  fo  pleafingly  undone. 
 
 II. 
 
 ^TPHCEUS^  whofe  vaft  bulk  and  monftrous  pride 
 
 Omnipotence  itfelf  defy'd, 
 
 By  fad  experience  taught  to  know 
 Th'unbounded  force  of  an  almighty  foe. 
 
 Under  all  Sicily  opprcft. 
 Feels  hills,  and  plains,  and  realms  lie  heavy  on  his 
 breaft. 
 
 Oft'  ftruggling  yet,  he  moves  the  ground ; 
 
 Fierce  u^Etna  vomits  fulph'rous  fmoke. 
 
 And  cities  fmk  beneath  the  fhock. 
 And  his  wide  prifon  trembles  all  around. 
 
 The  God  of  darknefs  trembled  too  •, 
 He  fear'd  left  op'ning  earth  admitting  light. 
 
 With  dazzling  terrors  and  affright. 
 Should  fill  the  pale  inhabitants  of  night, 
 And  his  dire  fecrets  fhow  to  public  view; 
 While  the  bright  God  would  with  his  piercing  ray 
 Invade  th'eternal  gloom,  and  fcatter  boundlefs  day. 
 
 *  The  sirens* 
 
 III.  With 
 
on  Several  Occasions.     291 
 III. 
 
 With  careful  hafte  the  frighted  God 
 
 Vifits  the  upper  air,  and  gains 
 
 The  fertile  Syracufian  plains, 
 And  Fergus*  banks  made  bleft  by  thy  abode. 
 
 There  quickly  all  his  anxious  fear 
 
 A  foftcr  paffion  did  remove, 
 
 And  turn'd  his  ftubborn  foul  to  love : 
 
 Illuftrious  triumph  of  thine  eyes  ! 
 
 In  one  fhort  moment  he  draws  near. 
 He  i^QSj  he  loves,  he  bears  away  the  prize. 
 
 IV. 
 
 O  DEAR  companions  of  my  virgin  joys! 
 
 O  mother  dearer  than  them  all ! 
 
 O  all  ye  kindred  deities  1 
 And  thou,  great  fire,  the  ruler  of  the  skies, 
 Hafte  to  my  aid,  and  fave  me  when  I  call ! 
 
 Vain  regrets,  and  fruitlefs  cries ! 
 The  earth  divides  to  make  the  monarch  way  ; 
 
 And  foon  the  fad,  T^artarean  fhore 
 "With  wond'ring  joy  receives  the  beauteous  prey, 
 Its  happy  lord  from  injur'd  Ceres  bore. 
 
 V. 
 
 He  av'ns  !  what  wild  cares  her  foul  opprefl ! 
 
 What  rage  her  breaft  infpires ! 
 See  !  in  Mtnean  furnaces 
 
 She  lights  avenging  fires. 
 
 Unhappy  ifland  !  defolated  plain  ! 
 
 Fruitful  and  promifing  in  vain  1 
 
 U  2  Thou 
 
zpi  POEMS 
 
 Thou  faw'ft  her  raging  hand 
 
 Burn  rifmg  crops,  a  grateful  load, 
 Spread  wide  deftrudion  o'er  her  fav'rite  land* 
 And  ruin  all  the  bkflings  it  beftow'd. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Cold,  dull  reafon,  hence!  be  gone! 
 
 A  noble  madnefs  feize  my  mind, 
 
 Tranfports  to  vulgar  breafts  unknown  } 
 Wild  and  roving  be  my  fire. 
 
 My  numbers  loofe  and  unconfin'd. 
 As  when  above  I  charm'd,  and  touch'd  th'auda- 
 cious  lyre. 
 
 I  would  not  pleafe  by  artful  lays  >; 
 
 Let  others  curious  gardens  praife  ! 
 Their  nice  exadnefs  does  but  tire  my  fight. 
 
 And  lefs  than  happy  chance  delight : 
 
 I  love  the  foreft's  wafte  retreat. 
 
 Where  all's  irregularly  great ; 
 Where  nature  uncorredled,  unfupply'd, 
 Profufely  lavifhes  her  bounteous  pride, 
 The  foreign  aids  of  fervile  art  difdains, 
 And  beauteous  in  her  own  diforder  reigns; 
 
 VII. 
 
 t- 
 
 Goddess,  all  thy  pow'r  muft  own, 
 All  muft  bend  before  thy  throne. 
 Pious  pray'rs  may  move  the  skies^ 
 And  angry  Jove  is  pleas'd  with  facrifice  ; 
 But  nor  pray'rs,  nor  piety. 
 Nor  facrifice  preferves  from  thee. 
 
 The 
 
on  Several  Occasions.     293 
 
 The  fons  of  arc  with  fruitlefs  care 
 
 The  tott'ring  building  may  repair : 
 Quickly  the  feeble  ruins  fink  away. 
 
 And  moulder  into  common  clay  ; 
 Themfelves  too  yield  at  laft,  and  thy  flern  force  obey, 
 Thetis^  who  ftudious  her  great  fon  to  fave, 
 
 Doom'd  long  before  to  fall  at  ^roy^ 
 
 Dipt  him  all  o*er  in  Styx^s  wave, 
 Yet  left  a  place  for  fate,  and  mourn'd  the  daring  boy, 
 
 VIII. 
 
 How  numerous  are  the  worlds  of  dead. 
 
 That  o'er  thy  vaft  domain  are  fpread  1 
 
 New  nations  ev'ry  moment  land. 
 
 And  cover  all  the  fpacious  flrand. 
 The  ftubborn  deftinies  no  mercy  fhow  ; 
 
 All  mankind  ('tis  face's  dtcr^Q^ 
 
 And  fix'd  as  fate  itfelf  can  be) 
 
 Muft  people  the  dark  realms  below. 
 Grandeur,  courage,  learning,  wit 
 
 To  thy  refifllefs  laws  fubmic : 
 The  king  and  beggar  fhare  an  equal  doom ; 
 
 The  mighcieft  conquerors  muft  come. 
 To  join  che  crowds  they  vanquifh'd,  in  the  tomb. 
 
 Vainly,  tuneful  bards,  ye  ftrive 
 To  gain  that  immortality  you  give  \ 
 In  vain  you  feek  to  fhield  your  deftin'd  head^ 
 
 In  vain  by  meaner  worth  would  fave 
 
 Your  finking  carcafs  from  the  grave  ; 
 Dare  ye  to  hope  for  life,  when  Pindar*^  felf  is  dead  ? 
 
 U  3  IX.  Inexo- 
 
294  POEMS 
 
 IX. 
 
 Inexorable  queen,  thy  force  proclaim. 
 
 In  fallen  majtity  maintain 
 
 Thy  dreaded,  univerfal  reign, 
 Nor  own  imperial  Jiino^s  greater  name. 
 Only  my  verfe  fliall  with  thy  pow'r  engage. 
 Dare  all  thy  might,  and  brave  thy  feebler  rage  j 
 
 My  verfe  which  fpight  of  fate,  and  thee. 
 
 Shall  pleafe  to  all  eternity. 
 
 Let  Gods  averfe,  and  hoilile  pow'rs 
 
 Level  with  earth  'Thebes*  lofty  tow'rs ; 
 
 Still  the  more  lafting  notes  I  fung. 
 
 My  country's  ruins  fhail  furvive. 
 
 And  rev'renc'd  tv'n  by  foes  Ihall  live. 
 Charm  ev'ry  ear,  and  dwell  on  ev'ry  tongue. 
 
 X. 
 
 But  hark  1  what  founds  are  thefe  I  hear  ? 
 
 Wh.ic  other  mufic  wounds  my  ear? 
 Heav'ns  !  'cis  Corinna  fings !  too  well  I  know 
 The  rival  lyre,  and  lovely,  conqu'ring  ioe. 
 
 Ah!  'tis  tou  much,  infulting  maid  ! 
 To  hope  a  fecond  triumph  o'er  my  Ihade : 
 No  lon^^r  thou  in  thofe  bright;,  charms  canft  trufl:> 
 Which  forc'd  ev'n  rev'rend  age  to  be  unjuU  ; 
 Thy  pow'rful  eyes  no  longer  plead  thy  caufe. 
 Prevent  all  cenlure,  and  fecure  applaufe. 
 See,  while  I  fpeak,  thy  weiiknefs  all  appear ! 
 Only  the  vulgar  dead,  a  namelefs  throng. 
 About  thee  crowd,  and  liften  to  thy  fong  ; 
 While  all  th'illuftrious  Ihades  my  numbers  hear : 
 
 OrpheuS: 
 
on  Several  Occasions.      295 
 
 Orpheus^  who  firfl  infpir'd  the  vocal  lyre, 
 
 Horner^  the  Grecian  mufe's  fire. 
 And  the  gay  *  "lieian  bard  attend  my  lays  j 
 And  by  their  filence  beft  proclaim  my  praife. 
 
 XI. 
 
 My  charming  mufic  can  afTwage 
 
 The  triple-headed  monfter's  ragcj 
 Gentle  at  my  feet  he  lies, 
 
 No  longer  threatens  with  his  eyes ; 
 And  all  his  ears  are  bufy  on  the  notes. 
 That  flop  the  yellings  of  his  idle  throats. 
 Here  Sifyphus^  with  endlefs  toil  opprefl. 
 Leans  on  th'unmoving  ftone,  and  fhares  a  paufe  of 
 
 reft. 
 Fix'd  on  my  voice,  there  the  dire  -f  Sifters  lie. 
 Their  empty  veflels  ftand  negledled  by. 
 
 Ev'n  the  ftern  Minos^  for  a  while, 
 His  rugged  vifige  foften'd  to  a  fmile. 
 
 Puts  off  the  judge,  and  yields  to  give 
 The  trembling  criminals  a  fhort  reprieve. 
 
 The  fates,  that  never  pity  knew. 
 
 Are  foften'd  into  pity  too  ; 
 And  negligent  to  cut  the  tender  thread, 
 Rob  hell  awhile  of  its  appointed  dead. 
 
 See!  ev'n  the  furies  lift'ning  ftand. 
 And  on  my  fongs  intent. 
 
 Forget  the  care  of  puniftiment ; 
 And  each  avenging  whip  drops  gently  from  their 
 hand. 
 
 *  Anacreon,  f  The  Belides. 
 
 U  4  XII.  Thus, 
 
r^6  POEMS 
 
 XII. 
 
 Thus,  Rujfel^  in  the  fhades  below. 
 
 The  godlike  'Thehan  tun'd  his  lyre  ; 
 While  the  fad  ghofts  th'enchanting  founds  admire. 
 And  unknown  pleafures  fill  the  realms  of  woe. 
 Alas !   in  vain  I  would  thy  judgment  cheat. 
 
 Thou  feell  thro'  all  the  thin  deceit ; 
 Thou  feeft  my  trifling  rage,  and  counterfeited  fire, 
 
 O  !  were  my  foul,  like  thine,  pofTeft 
 Of  all  the  nobleft  treafures  of  the  Eaft  ; 
 
 Could  there  in  each  well-polifh'd  line 
 Appear  a  genius  as  refin'd  as  thine ; 
 Were  all  my  verfe  like  thy  jufl  language  ftrong. 
 
 And  foft  as  when  thy  moving  tongue 
 Charms  ev'ry  paflion  of  th'attentive  throng  j 
 
 My  daring  mufe  fhould  never  fall 
 
 Beneath  its  vaft  original ; 
 Like  the  *  Birccean  fwan  I'd  nobly  rife. 
 Spurn  the  dull  earth,  and  foar  above  the  fkies : 
 The  diff'rence  ev'n  by  thee  fhould  fcarce  be  knowp. 
 And  the  great  bard  himfelf  my  equal  numbers  own, 
 
 *  lindar. 
 
 An 
 
on  Several  Occasions.     297 
 
 ^n    ODE. 
 
 To  Delia, 
 
 L 
 
 ETERNAL  God,  whofe  awful  pow'r 
 The  trembling  feraphs  own  ; 
 
 When  proftrate  low  before  thy  throne, 
 
 With  cover'd  faces  they  adore, 
 
 And  fing  thro'  all  the  vaults  above. 
 The  wonders  of  thy  grace,  and  glories  of  thy  love: 
 
 How  vail  the  pleafures !  how  intenfe  1 
 That  from  thy  throne  in  living  torrents  roll; 
 
 How  well  they  raviOi  ev'ry  fenfe. 
 And  fill  up  all  the  foul ! 
 Where  happy  minds  repos'd  in  thy  embrace, 
 Unveil'd  behold  the  fplendor  of  thy  face. 
 
 And  in  ineffable  delight, 
 
 Feaft  on  thy  love,  and  on  thy  fight 
 
 Thro'  all  eternity  employ 
 Their  pow'rs  fublime,  and  equal  to  their  joy. 
 
 IL 
 
 Fain  would  the  humble  mufe  afpire. 
 And  to  celeftial  tranfports  tune  her  lyre.; 
 
 But  ah !  in  vain  her  ftrength  fhc  tries. 
 
 Feeble  and  faint,  fhe  dreads  the  fl^ies. 
 And  fmks  the  more,  the  more  fhe  ftrivcs  to  rife. 
 
 My  foul  too  finks  as  well  as  fhe. 
 
 Forgets  its  own  immortal  pedigree. 
 
 Forgets 
 
298  POEMS 
 
 Forgets  the  fkies,  its  native  fear. 
 
 And  grov'ling  low  in  duft  and  clay, 
 
 Heedlefs  of  ought  divinely  great. 
 
 It  waftes  the  precious  hours  away. 
 
 In  joys  that  fly  as  fwift  as  they. 
 
 The  finful  flefh,  a  heavy  load. 
 
 Drags  down  the  bright,  immortal  part. 
 Weakens  its  pow'rs,  and  fixes  ail  the  heart 
 
 Far  from  its  heav'n,  and  from  its  God  : 
 Terrellrial  objeds  ev'ry  rapture  move. 
 
 For  them  alone  it  learns  to  love. 
 For  them  with  eafe  neglects  the  diftant  joys  above, 
 
 III. 
 
 DELIA-,  whom  propitious  heav'n 
 The  fofteft  cure  for  my  worfl:  ills  has  giv'n ; 
 To  aid  in  wand'ring  thro'  life's  tedious  road. 
 To  banifh  horror  and  defpair. 
 Tear  from  my  heart  each  wildefl  care. 
 And  lighten  more  than  half  its  load  •, 
 Look  down  with  pity  on  my  flate. 
 And  help  as  you  compafTionate. 
 Thou  art  my  only  hope  below  : 
 Where-e'er  I  Hand,  where-e'er  I  go, 
 
 ^Tis  all  enchanted  ground  ; 
 Temptations  ev'ry  where  abound, 
 And  fnares,  and  baits,  and  darknefs  all  around." 
 Enticing  vice,  with  fatal  charms, 
 Tempts  me  from  virtue's  noble  toils. 
 
 To  her  deftrudive  arms : 
 With  what  a  grace  the  Syren  fmiles ! 
 
 How 
 
on  Several  Occasions,     299 
 
 How  fair  her  painted  face ! 
 
 Eager  I  gaze  myfelf  away, 
 Long  her  bewitching  dilates  to  obey. 
 And  rufti  to  mis'ry  in  the  foft  embrace. 
 
 Thou  art  my  guide,  and  if  thou  lead, 
 Ev'n  yet,  perhaps,  I  virtue's  paths  may  tread. 
 Trace  without  fear  the  bright,  but  toilfome  way; 
 If  thou  negled:  thy  care,  infalhbly  I  flray. 
 Thus  if  a  poor,  benighted  traveller 
 Sees  in  the  gloomy  skies  one  friendly  ftar. 
 
 He  blelTes  the  aufpicious  light ; 
 
 Then  thro'  the  horrors  of  the  night, 
 "With  cautious  fteps,  purfues  his  doubtful  way. 
 And  patient  waits  the  flow  approach  of  day, 
 
 IV. 
 
 How  ftrange,  alas,  my  frailties  be  ! 
 
 I  find  temptations  ev'n  in  thee : 
 DiiTolv'd  in  blifs,  and  melting  in  thy  arms, 
 I  lofe  the  relifh  of  celeftial  charms ; 
 On  thee  alone  my  wand'ring  thoughts  employ, 
 And  loft  in  thee,  forget  fuperior  joy. 
 
 O  thou  whofe  unrefilted   fway 
 
 My  wiJdeit  pafTions  ftill  obey  ! 
 Ufe  all  thy  pow'r,  each  bafcr  thought  controul, 
 Raife  juft  defires,  and  regulate  my  foul ; 
 Inflrud  my  feeble  fancy  to  conceive 
 Joys  above  all  that  earth,  or  thou  canfb  give. 
 O  couldft  thou  to  my  frozen  breafl  infpire 
 
 One  fpark  of  thy  own  heav'nly  fire  ; 
 That  I  too  might  th'immortal  tranfports  know. 
 And  more  than  tafle  a  paradife  below  ! 
 
 Scarce 
 
300  POEMS 
 
 Scarce  the  bright  cherubs,  or  the  bleft  above 
 
 A  more  celeftial  ardor  prove ; 
 
 Scarce  all  their  harps  and  all  their  Jays 
 
 Their  great  Creator  better  praife, 
 Or  reach  in  loftier  notes  the  triumphs  of  his  Jove. 
 
 V. 
 
 Whene'er  I  read  the  moving  lines, 
 Where  well  expreft  the  lofty  fubjed  Ihines, 
 
 I  fee  the  joys  I  fliould  purfue. 
 And  all  the  skies  are  open'd  to  my  view  : 
 
 Hail,  happy  realms !  divine  abode  ! 
 
 HaiJ,  manfions  worthy  your  creator,  God ! 
 
 And  can  a  mortal  then  polTefs 
 
 A  place  in  your  bright  palaces  ? 
 Who  could  refufe,  fuch  glories  to  obtain, 
 
 A  few  (hort  hours  of  toil  or  pain  ? 
 The  martyrs  gain'd  you  thro'  a  bloody  way, 
 
 Sure  I  could  dare  as  well  as  they  j 
 With  vigorous  zeal  in  virtue's  caufe  engage, 
 And  flem  the  torrent  of  a  vicious  age. 
 Enchanting  vice  no  more  my  foul  fhall  warm  : 
 I  fee  the  fiend  reveal'd  in  open  light  : 
 Heav'ns !  how  the  hideous  form  offends  my  fight  \ 
 Amaz'd  I  fhrink  away,  and  wonder  llie  could  charm. 
 How  foon  the  noble  warmth's  decay 'd  ! 
 How  foon  the  gen'rous  raptures  fade ! 
 I  ceafe  to  read ;  and  now  they  are  no  more. 
 And  I  grow  fliint  and  wretched,  as  before.' 
 O  help  me  flill !  let  the  great  theme  you've  Vung 
 Still  entertain  your  thoughts,  and  dwell  upon  your 
 tongue. 
 
 When- 
 
on  Several  Occasions.     301 
 
 Whene'er  I  fink,  whene'er  1  fall. 
 Attempt  the  heav'nly  drain. 
 Again  my  fpirits  to  juft  heights  recal. 
 Touch  ev'ry  fprightly  firing,  and  raife  my  foul 
 
 agam. 
 
 VI. 
 
 So  may  pure  joys  crown  each  returning  day. 
 Soft  be  thy  nights,  and  ev'ry  dream  be  gay  ; 
 Roll  fmooth  each  hour,  thy  bread  no  trouble  prove. 
 But  the  kind,  gentle  cares  of  mutual  love : 
 
 So  long  may  thy  infpiring  page. 
 And  bright  example  blefs  the  rifing  age  ; 
 Long  in  thy  charming  prifon  mayft  thou  Hay, 
 Late,  very  late  afcend  the  well-known  way. 
 And  add  new  glories  to  the  realms  of  day. 
 At  leaft  Heav'n  will  not,  fure,  this  pray'r  deny  ; 
 
 Short  be  my  life's  uncertain  date. 
 And  earlier  long  than  thine  the  deftin*d  hour  of  fate ! 
 
 Whene'er  it  comes,  may'fl  thou  be  by. 
 Support  my  finking  frame,  and  teach  me  how  to  die » 
 
 Banifh  defponding  nature's  gloom. 
 
 Make  me  to  hope  a  gentle  doom. 
 
 And  fix  me  all  on  joys  to  come. 
 With  fwimming  eyes  I'll  gaze  upon  thy  charms. 
 And  clafp  thee,  dying,  in  my  fainting  aims  \ 
 
 Then  gently  leaning  on  thy  bread. 
 Sink  in  foft  flumbers  to  eternal  red ; 
 
 Without  a  groan  refign  my  breath, 
 
 Nor  ihrink  at  the  cold  arms  of  death  ; 
 The  ghadly  form  fhall  have  a  pleafing  air. 
 And  all  things  fmile,  while  heav'n  and  thou  art 
 there, 
 
 VII.  Now 
 
30Z 
 
 POEMS 
 
 VII. 
 
 Now  of  immortal  crowns  pofleft. 
 Humbly  adoring  with  th*inferior  bleft, 
 
 I'll  leave  each  mortal  care  below ; 
 Only  my  love  for  thee  fhall  ne'er  a  period  know« 
 Whenever  ftorms  are  threat'ning,  ril  be  near. 
 Avert  the  danger,  and  prevent  thy  fear  ; 
 Oft'  mingle  with  the  bright,  defcending  throngs. 
 
 And  learn  from  thine  to  raife  my  fongs. 
 Then,  when  thou  muft  at  laft  refign  to  fate. 
 On  thy  departing  foul  I'll  wait. 
 With  fludious  pleafure  guide  my  fair 
 Thro'  the  firft  paths  of  blifsful  air  ; 
 Then  led  by  thee  purfue  a  loftier  road. 
 To  upper  regions  daring  foar, 
 Vaft  realms  of  blifs  unknown  before, 
 Heav'n's  inmofl  palaces  explore. 
 And  bear  th'enjoyment  of  a  fmiling  God. 
 New  pow'rs,  new  graces  fhall  adorn  my  mindj 
 Almoll  like  thine  exalted  and  refin'd : 
 
 My  flame  fhall  with  my  ftrength  improves 
 While  we  a  tuneful  off 'ring  bring, 
 (For  taught  by  thee,  I  too  fhall  fing) 
 And  blefs  thro'  endlefs  years  the  fountain  of  our 
 love. 
 
 Jn 
 
on  Several  Occasions.     303 
 
 An  0  D  E   071  Liberty. 
 
 L 
 
 IjRIGHTEST  offspring  of  the  skies. 
 Great  fource,  from  whence  to  haplefs  mortals  flow 
 
 Pleafures  fincere  and  noble  joys. 
 And  ev'ry  real  bleffing  left  below. 
 
 Immortal  Liberty,  to  thee 
 
 The  tribute  of  my  voice  I  bring  ; 
 Goddefs,  accept  the  difproportion'd  praife. 
 
 Accept  the  well-defigning  lays. 
 Mean  and  humble  tho'  they  be. 
 
 And  wrong  the  mighty  theme  they  fing : 
 Others  may  better  plead  thy  glorious  caufe. 
 By  loftier  ftrains  fecure  of  juft  applaufe  ; 
 But  none  could  e'er  admire  thy  beauties  mone. 
 Or  with  a  purer  zeal  at  thy  bleft  fhrine  adore, 
 
 11. 
 
 Of  his  own  image  thee,  the  noblefl  part. 
 To  new-born  man  th' Almighty  gave  5 
 Thee  deep  infix'd  within  his  bread. 
 
 The  principle  of  all  that's  good  and  brave* 
 
 And  well  on  earth  thy  didlates  were  purfu'd, 
 "When  fhining  with  unfullied  grace 
 His  work  the  pleas'd  Creator  view'd. 
 And  bleft  a  well  deferving  race, 
 Bleft  the  rifing  golden  age  -, 
 
 Too  foon,  alas !  it  ceas'd,  fucceeded  impious  rage: 
 
 And 
 
304  POEMS 
 
 And  vile,  degenerate  men  deferv'd  to  be 
 Hated  of  heav'n,  and  ignorant  of  thee, 
 
 III. 
 
 To  endlefs  ages  be  the  monfter  curd. 
 
 That  baniih'd  thee  from  nations  firft  I 
 Who  for  fond  notions  of  unbounded  pow'r, 
 (Heav'n's  right  alone)  defpis'd  a  lawful  fway  5 
 Could  think  it  great  to  ruin  and  devour. 
 And  force  unwilling  wretches  to  obey. 
 
 Nor  lefs  reproaches  load  his  head, 
 Be  he  the  fcorn  of  all  th'illuflrious  dead ! 
 Who  firll  could  live  a-nd  be  a  (lave. 
 With  fervile  awe  could  bear  unbroke 
 On  his  bafe  neck  the  galling  yoke  ; 
 Nay  more  (ye  pow'rs !)  could  blefs  the  tyrant's  reign, 
 
 Submit  with  pleafure  to  his  fate, 
 Praife  the  dire  ills  of  arbitrary  flate. 
 Thy  facred  name  blafpheme,  and  hug  the  hated 
 chain. 
 How  far  unlike  thofe  fouls,  that  formed 
 Of  purer  mold,  of  more  celellial  clay. 
 By  thy  great  rules  had  all  their  bofoms  warm'd. 
 And  made  impatient  of  unequal  fway. 
 Were  born  in  happy  climes  above  the  refl 
 Of  loft  abandon'd  men,  by  thy  bright  prefence  bleft, 
 p  Goddefs,  could  I  fed  but  half  the  fire 
 That  caus'd  the  deachlefs  adions  I  admire, 
 j    Thro'  which  unmov'd  thy  vot'ries  flood 
 Still  true  to  honour,  and  to  thee, 
 
 EfpousM 
 
on  Several  Occasions.      305 
 
 Efpous'd  thy  caufe,  and  lavifh  of  their  blood. 
 Run  thro'  a  thoufand  certain  deaths  to  fet  their 
 country  free. 
 
 IV. 
 
 I'd  fing  their  deeds,  and  fing  thy  praife. 
 
 In  fuch  vaft,  fuch  Jofty  lays  ; 
 That  not  alone  the  neighb'ring  hills  around. 
 But  heav'n's  wide  arch  fhould  echo  to  the  found  : 
 
 Tyrants  (hould  hear  the  moving  ftrain, 
 
 Tyrants  in  nations  yet  unknown. 
 
 Should  fcatter  blefTings  from  the  throne. 
 And  try  the  pleafures  of  a  gentle  reign  ; 
 
 And  crowds  of  fenfelefs  flaves  again. 
 
 Strange  miracle !  fliould  ti^rn  to  men. 
 
 V. 
 
 All  other  fuccour  I  refufe; 
 My  glorious  theme,  be  thou  alone  my  mufe ! 
 
 The  humbled  bard,  if  thou  infpire. 
 
 Shall  touch  the  firing,  and  tune  the  lyre. 
 And  kindle  to  a  more  than  mortal  fire: 
 
 With  forces  not  his  own  fliall  rife. 
 
 Leave  far  the  airy  Alps  below. 
 And  mountains  rcv'rend  with  eternal  fnow, 
 And  foar  with  daring  flight  above  th'inferior  fkies. 
 
 VL 
 
 Unjustly  we  Apollo  praife, 
 
 Author  of  verfe,  and  God  of  lays  > 
 Nor  he  to  hinm  did  his  art  infufe. 
 Nor  Orpheus  learn'd  it  from  his  parent  mufe : 
 
 Vol.  II.  X  Can 
 
3o6  POEMS 
 
 Can  aught  or  great  or  charming  be. 
 That  knows  another  fource  than  thee  ? 
 By  thee  the  firft  of  poets  taught, 
 (Whom  heav'n  a  great  deliverer  gave, 
 IfraeW  fav'rite  fons  to  fave) 
 Sung  the  ftupendous  miracles  he  wrought : 
 He  lung  a  race  by  long  opprellion  broke. 
 And  funk  beneath  the  curll  Egyptian  yoke. 
 Set  free,  and  led  from  out  the  barb'rous  land, 
 By  figns  furpalTing  faith,  and  heav'n's  extended  hand. 
 Yet  fo  deliver'd,  that  they  feem  to  be 
 Abandon'd  to  more  certain  mifery ; 
 They  view  the  raging  fea  before. 
 With  angry  billows  lafh  the  fhore  ; 
 Their  foes  more  dreadful  urge  behind. 
 And  eager  on  their  prey,  outftrip  the  wind. 
 In  vain  your  chariots  and  your  hofts  purfue. 
 Almighty  vengeance  flies  more  fwift  than  you. 
 The  fea  retir*d  with  joyful  hade, 
 While  thro'  its  depths  the  Hebrews  pad  ; 
 Yet  with  more  joy  turn'd  back  its  waves, 
 T'  o'erwhelm  the  tyrant,  and  his  herd  ot  flaves. 
 
 vir. 
 
 Thine  too  the  numbers,  when  his  awful  tongue 
 Call'd  heav'n  and  earth  to  liften  to  his  fong. 
 
 To  hear  a  tale,  a  fight  to  view, 
 Strange  beyond  thought,  beyond  example  new: 
 A  people  proud  by  heav'n's  protedion  made. 
 Secure  amidft  furrounding  troops  of  foes. 
 Thro'  wilds  unknown  and  tracklefs  defarts  Jed, 
 To  vidlory,  to  freedom,  and  repofe: 
 
 To 
 
on  Several  Occasions.     307 
 
 To  whom  the  rocks  gave  water,  bread  the  fkies ; 
 
 And  ev'ry  flighteft  want  found  fure  fupplies 
 From  never-ceafing  prodigies; 
 Bafe  and  ungrateful  murmur'd  dill, 
 Scorn'd  to  be  fav'd  againft  their  will, 
 Mourn'd  in  warm  tears  their  broken  chain, 
 
 And  wifli'd  for  naufeous  flavery  again. 
 Well,  wretches !  you  fhall  quickly  prove 
 The  blelTings  of  the  date  you  love; 
 Soon  will  your  crimes  the  heav'ns  provoke 
 To  curfe  you  with  a  foreign  yoke. 
 
 Then  your  repentant  grief  and  ardent  pray'r. 
 
 Will  reach  yon  azure  vault,  and  ev'ry  God  that's 
 there ; 
 The  pow'rs  will  lend  a  pitying  ear, 
 I'he  pow'rs,  tho'  much  incenft,  will  hear  : 
 Commiffion'd  heroes  Ihall  arife, 
 Arm'd  with  the  vengeance  of  the  skies ; 
 
 Whofe  righteous  force  fhall  the  loft  nations  fave^ 
 
 And  make  fierce  tyrants,  in  their  turn,  feel  all  the 
 
 woes  they  gave. 
 Th'  event  confirm'd  his  words ;  of  peace  polTeft, 
 
 Weaken'd  by  luxury  and  reft. 
 By  heav'n  abandon'd,  by  themfelves  betray'd  ; 
 They  fell  an  helplefs  prey  to  all  that  durft  invade : 
 Then  great  deliv'rers  to  their  refcue  came ; 
 
 A  fhining  lift,  each  glorious  name. 
 
 Worthy  of  Liberty  and  fame. 
 
 X  2  VIII.  Begin 
 
3o8  POEMS 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Begin  my  mufe  with  Ehud's  pralfe, 
 
 Ehud  claims  the  noblefl:  Jays  ; 
 
 His  Tingle  and  unaided  hand 
 
 Freed  by  one  daring  ftroke  the  land  -, 
 
 He  (fhrink,  ufurpers,  as  you  hear  !) 
 
 Free  from  danger  as  from  fear, 
 
 Attack'd  a  tyrant  on  his  throne. 
 
 And  reach'd  his  life,  yet  fav'd  his  own. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The  laurels  gain'd  nG3.T  Ki/hon^s  ftream 
 
 By  Deborah,  be  next  thy  theme. 
 To  make  the  Hehnw  matron  juftly  known. 
 
 Requires  fuch  numbers  as  her  own : 
 But  who  like  her  can  terribly  delight. 
 Paint  the  dire  horrors  of  th'  amazing  fight, 
 
 All  heav'n*s  artillery  difplay, 
 And  fet  the  ftars  embattled  in  array  ^ 
 
 What  wonders  troops,  tho'  defpicably  few. 
 Engaged  for  freedom,  and  by  heroes  led, 
 'Gainft  mighty  crowds  of  flaves  can  do  ; 
 Let  Midlands  vanquifh'd  armies  tell. 
 Who  by  the  fword  of  Gideon  fell. 
 Or  from  his  terrors  fled. 
 Happy  the  chief  in  num'rous  conquefts  won  1 
 Happy  in  all  the  fofter  joys  of  peace  ! 
 Happy  in  fev'nty  males,  a  large  encreafe  f 
 Yet  more  unhappy  in  a  tyrant  fon  ! 
 
 The. 
 
on  Several  Occasions.      309 
 
 The  hated  product  of  a  lawlefs  flame, 
 Stain  to  his  blood,  and  ruin  to  his  name: 
 
 For  whom  all  Ifrael  curft  him  more, 
 Than  for  his  pious  care  they  e'er  had  bleft  before. 
 
 XL 
 
 A B  I M I LEC Hy  by  crimes  unknown, 
 Afcended  to  the  guilty  throne  •, 
 By  crimes  unknown  he  fix'd  his  pow'r, 
 Three  whole  years,  a  tedious  age, 
 Ifrael  felt  the  monfler's  rage. 
 Heav'n  and  earth  could  bear  no  more  : 
 Proftrate  and  grov'ling  on  the  ground  he  lies, 
 Defpair  and  horror  in  his  dying  eyes  \ 
 By  a  vile  woman  reach'd,  his  curft  defigning  brain, 
 Mix*d  with  the  clotted  gore,  befmearsth'iiluftrious 
 
 plain. 
 Go!  by  thy  brother's  blood  begin  thy  fway, 
 By  envious  murders  blacken  ev'ry  day. 
 All  human  and  all  facred  laws  defy. 
 And  wake  the  fleeping  juftice  of  the  sky  'r 
 Then,  full  of  honour,  to  the  fhades  defcend, 
 And  to  the  envying  ghofls  relate  thy  glorious  end  ! 
 Thus,  thus,  ye  pow'rs,  conclude  all  impious  flate; 
 May  none  that  match  his  crimes  e'er  fhare  a  noble^ 
 flite! 
 
 XII. 
 
 Sing  Jephtha  next,  my  mufe  ;  if  verfe  can  crown 
 Deferving  heroes  with  renow^n. 
 The  brave,  th'  unhappy  Ihall  be  fung, 
 
 Fix  ev'ry  lift'ningear,  and  dwell  on  ev'ry  tongue. 
 
 X  3  The 
 
310  POEMS 
 
 The  chief,  with  Ammon^s  fons  in  fight  engag'd. 
 When  with  uncertain  force  the  battle  rag'd, 
 
 Thus  fuppJianc  vow'd  :  If  by  my  hand. 
 Peace  and  fafety  glad  the  land  ; 
 
 To  you,  ye  fovVeign  pow'rs,  that  blefs 
 
 My  righteous  arms  with  wifh'd  fuccefs. 
 
 Whatever  firft  meets  my  return. 
 
 Upon  your  altars  flain  fhall  burn, 
 Heav'n  heard  ;  and  conquefl  hov'ring  in  the  sky, 
 Flew  to  the  jufter  fide,  the  fervile  fquadrons  fly. 
 His  only  hope,  a  nymph  divinely  fair. 
 
 Ran  with  fwift  joy  to  meet  her  doom  ; 
 
 To  bid  the  general  welcome  home 
 From  the  rough  toils  of  war. 
 Heav'ns !  what  a  fight!  can  words,  can  lays  exprefs 
 Th'  unbounded  woes,  th'  extent  of  wretchednefs  ? 
 Griev'd,  yet  refolv'd,  he  view'd  the  charming  maid. 
 And  his  dire  vows  with  flridt  obedience  paid. 
 See  to  the  flirine  the  lovely  vidim  bound ! 
 A  thoufand  loft  adoring  youths  around 
 Shrink  at  the  ftroke,  and  faint  beneath  the  wound: 
 
 The  father  dropt  a  tender  tear ; 
 Pat  foon  reflecting  on  what  heav'n  had  done. 
 And  freedom  fettled  by  the  conqueft  won. 
 He  check'd  his  rafli  complaint,  nor  judg'd  the  price 
 too  dear. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 What  e'er  in  fables  daring  Greece 
 Boafts  of  her  "Tbefeus  and  her  Hercules  j 
 
 In  Samfon  Ifrael  view'd,  and  bleft 
 The  gift  of  heav'n  employ'd  to  give  them  reft. 
 
 Witnefs 
 
on  Several  Occasions.     311 
 
 Witnefs  his  (Irength,  ye  thoufands  (lain 
 
 By  him  unarm'd  on  Lehi^%  plain  1 
 
 Witnefs,  ye  maffy  gates,  he  tore. 
 And  on  his  fhoulders  a  light  burthen  bore ! 
 O  !  had  he  flill  been  true  to  freedom's  caufe, 
 
 And  never  felt  a  meaner  care, 
 Unrival'd  then  had  been  his  juft  applaufe. 
 Nor  Ifrael\  annals  known  a  name  fo  fair : 
 
 But  he  to  luftful  fires  a  prey. 
 
 In  a  deceitful  harlot's  arms, 
 
 Heedlefs  of  virtue's  deathlefs  charms, 
 
 Idly  confum'd  the  precious  day. 
 Juftly  he  loft  the  ftrength  th'  immortals  gave 
 Not  for  fuch  ufe,  juftly  was  made  a  flave : 
 
 With  freedom  too  depriv'd  of  fight, 
 '  Wafted  in  fervile  works,  the  conftant  jeft 
 Of  barb'rous  foes,  and  fport  of  ev'ry  fcaft; 
 Doom'd  by  his  woes  to  heighten  their  delight. 
 His  fuff'rings  move  the  skies  ^  his  force  returns, 
 And  all  the  hero  with  new  vigor  burns. 
 'Twas  a  great  feftival,  and  crowds  refort ; 
 Colledled  nobles  fill  the  fpacious  court ; 
 The  Hebrew  captive's  call'd,  to  finifh  all  the  fport. 
 He  comes,  the  crowd  the  roofs  with  clamours  rend  i 
 
 He  grafps  the  folid  pillars  in  his  hand, 
 Beneath  the  grafp  the  folid  pillars  bend, 
 Down  finks  the  pond'rous  pile,    and  crufhes  half 
 the  land. 
 
 The  conqu'ror  fell  amidft  the  flain. 
 And  dying,  fav'd  a  wretched  race  in  vain  > 
 ,  Unus'd  and  undeferving  to  be  free, 
 They  foon  abandon'd  dear-bought  Liberty, 
 
 X  4  Chofe 
 
312  POEMS 
 
 Chofe  the  vain  fplendor  of  a  lavvlefs  throne, 
 And  fix'd  their  children's  ruin,  and  their  own. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 GREECE  with  hofpitable  care 
 
 Receiv*d  and  bleil:  the  Hying  Fair ; 
 
 But  Athens  moft  adorM  her  charms, 
 
 Athens  renown'd  in  arts  and  arms. 
 Nor  lefs  the  Goddefs  lov'd  the  grateful  place; 
 
 There  mod  fhe  chofe  to  fix  her  feat. 
 
 There  ftudious  form'd  a  godlike  race. 
 And  minds  divinely  great: 
 Yet  there  a  *  tyrant  rofe  with  treach'rous  arts. 
 Well  fitted  to  feduce  the  people's  hearts ; 
 With  foothing  charms  to  force  their  fenfe  away. 
 And  make  their  liberties  an  eafy  prey: 
 Gentle  his  rule,  but  heroes  juftly  free 
 Know  no  gentle  tyranny. 
 
 Twice  banifn'd,  he  as  oft'  return'd. 
 And  free-born  fouls  the  gilded  bondage  mourn'd. 
 In  peace  he  dy'd  :  Unequal  to  the  weight. 
 His  fons  in  fullen  rigor  rule  the  flate : 
 
 Not  long  ;  for  foon  a  chofen  band. 
 
 With  well-concerted  plots  confpire 
 
 To  fend  the  tyrants  to  their -fire. 
 And  eafe  the  groaning  land. 
 Lecena^  eminent  above  the  refl, 
 Deck'd  in  fuperior  glories  (land  confefl. 
 To  the  great  theme,  ye  mufes,  tune  your  lays. 
 Nor  blufh  to  fing  the  glorious  harlot's  praife : 
 
 *  lifpratus. 
 
 Known 
 
071  Several  Occasions.      313  , 
 
 Known  be  her  praife,  bat  in  oblivion  lie 
 
 All  her  former  infamy. 
 What  tho'  her  fatal  beauties  could  entice 
 From  virtue's  manly  joys  to  the  foft  bane  of  vice , 
 Lull  heedlefs  youth  in  wanton  eafe. 
 And  make  the  gay  perdition  pleafe ! 
 Pofterity  fhall  think  her  crimes  undone. 
 And  nothing  real,  but  the  fame  fne  won, 
 
 Ariftogiton  lov'd  the  dame  ; 
 Arijiogiton  mod  renown'd  of  thofe. 
 That  vow'd  deftruclion  on  their  country's  foes. 
 He  lov'd,  yet  not  abandon'd  to  his  flame, 
 L.ow^ A  Athens  m.ore:  Oft'  in  her  arms 
 He  figh'd  for  freedom's  nobkr  charms; 
 Oft'  mighty  vengeance  would  his  thoughts  employ, 
 Difturb  his  loofer  hours,  and  interrupt  the  joy. 
 The  fair  herfelf  at  laft  was  warm'd, 
 And  with  new  fire  her  hero  arm'd, 
 Bleft  his  defign,  and  taught  him,  in  her  turn. 
 To  court  brave  death,  and  fhameful  life  to  fcorn. 
 
 XV. 
 
 *  One  tyrant  falls  *,  ilern  Hippias  flill  furvives. 
 And  for  his  brother's  feeks  his  murd'rers  iires: 
 Some  prove  his  rage,  but  more  efcape,  by  face 
 Refcrv'd  the  future  patriots  of  their  Hate. 
 
 Le^na^  urg'd  in  vain,  fuppreft 
 
 Th'  important  fecret  in  her  breaft: 
 Her  tender  limbs  now  curft  tormentors  tear. 
 And  wafle  their  barb'rous  arts  upon  the  fairj 
 
 In 
 
31+  POEMS 
 
 In  ev'ry  nerve  convulfive  horrors  reign, 
 And  llruggling  nature  finks  beneath  the  pain  : 
 Thrice  on  her  lips  the  half-form*d  accents  hung. 
 As  oft'  th'  undaunted  heroine  ftopt  her  tongue: 
 
 But  when  fhe  found  her  courage  fail. 
 
 And  all  the  fofcer  fex  prevail ; 
 
 Begone,  fhe  cry^d,  falfe,  treacherous  part. 
 
 Unworthy  of  my  greater  heart ! 
 She  fpoke,  and  tore  the  traitor  from  his  place. 
 And  fpit  it  in  the  trembling  tyrant's  face. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Taught  by  the  great  example,  Athens  rofe  ; 
 Far  from  the  happy  land  the  tyrant  flies. 
 And  Per/la's  realm  a  fafe  afylum  chofe: 
 There  the  proud  monarch,  with  a  tender  carCj 
 
 Receives  his  fellow- ravifher ; 
 
 Grants  him  of  flaves  immenfe  fupplies. 
 To  Liberty  a  glorious  facrifice  *, 
 That  great  Miltiades  might  be  divine. 
 And  Marathon  in  deathlcfs  honours  fhine. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 But  Xerxes*  arms,  for  vengeance,  to  his  caufe 
 Millions  of  flaves,  a  world  in  Tetters  draws: 
 Sweird  into  madnefs,  as  the  tyrant  view*d 
 
 The  vaft,  unnumber'd  multitude ; 
 Sure  ruin  his  prefumptuous  thoughts  decree 
 To  Greece^  and  ev'ry  land  that  dar'd  be  free: 
 Nor  vain  his  pride,  were  it  to  numbers  giv^n 
 
 To  change  the  firm  refolves  of  heav'n. 
 
 The 
 
€n  Several  Occasions.     315 
 
 The  groaning  earth  th'  unwieldy  burthen  feels, 
 Exhaufted  rivers  fcarce  fupply  their  meals. 
 Europe  from  Afia  to  divide,  in  vain 
 
 Rolls  its  fierce  waves  the  eaftern  main  ; 
 The  monarch  fpeaks,  and  fwift  at  his  command.. 
 
 The  laboring  fquadrons  join  the  land. 
 
 With  laflies  and  with  chains  he  aw'd 
 
 The  courage  of  the  watry  God ; 
 
 The  curling  billov/s  foam  no  more. 
 And  tam'd  to  dull  fubmiflion  kifs  the  fhore: 
 
 All  nature  fhrinking  from  his  rage. 
 
 Scarce  dar'd  in  freedom's  caufe  engage  ; 
 Sufpended  ev'n  the  Goddefs  feem'd  to  (land. 
 Doubted  of  fate's  decree,  and  trembled  for  the  land. 
 
 *    XVIII. 
 
 Three  hundred  Spartans  (Heav'n  requir'd  no  more. 
 To  fhake  th'  intolerable  pow'r) 
 
 Thy  ftreights,  Thermopylce^  fecure  ;  and  there 
 
 Suftain  the  wildeft  fury  of  the  foe; 
 
 Yet  think  it  cowardice  no  more  to  dare. 
 
 They  feek  the  combat,  and  prevent  the  blow. 
 Thus  ifllie  from  the  Lyhian  wood 
 Fierce  lions  prelt  by  want  of  food  ; 
 O'er  weak  inclofures  force  their  way. 
 Fill  all  the  fpacious  folds  with  blood. 
 
 And  make  the  trembling  fugitives  their  prey : 
 
 Nor  more  the  bleating  troop  th'  invaders  fears. 
 Than  Perfia^s  hoft  their  conquerors. 
 
 The  monarch  fculks  behind  his  farthell  bands, 
 
 Deftin'd  to  perilh  by  lefs  noble  hands. 
 
 His 
 
3i6  POEMS 
 
 His  coward  vafifals  threaten  from  afar. 
 
 And  diflant  dart  a  mifllve  war ; 
 
 The  chiefs  urge  on,  with  rage  they  wound. 
 And  deal  inevitable  death  around  ; 
 
 Then  with  their  glorious  toil  opprefl. 
 
 And  tir'd  with  conqu'ring,  funk  to  reft. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Pleas'd  in  th'  Elyfian  fliades  they  hear 
 The  honours  by  their  country  won. 
 The  num'rous  glories  of  a  war 
 Ended  by  wonders,  as  begun. 
 Defcending  heroes  proud  in  conqueft  tell 
 What  numbers  at  Plalaa  fell ; 
 At  Mycaky  what  heaps  of  (lain. 
 And  Salajnisy  difcolour'd  all  the  main. 
 The  curfed  inftruments  of  publick  woe 
 Crowd  all  the  wide  infernal  plains , 
 There  juftly  fentenc'd  undergo 
 Infinite  tortures,  and  eternal  chains. 
 But  the  dire  monfter,  whofe  unbounded  rage 
 A  gen'ral  ruin  only  could  afiuage, 
 Fills  all  the  grifly  ruler's  mind. 
 And  ev'ry  thought  employ'd,  to  find 
 Some  equal  punifhment,  fome  full  reward. 
 For  all  he  adted,  and  for  all  he  dar'd. 
 All  hell  is  bufy  to  prepare  his  doom. 
 Stern  juftice  waits  impatient  till  he  come ; 
 For  him  omnipotence  exhaufts  its  ftore 
 Of  vengeance  yet  unprov'd,  and  plagues  unfels 
 
 before  ; 
 For  him  vv'ith  double  rage  the  fiery  torrents  roar. 
 
 Th 
 
on  Several  Occasions.     317 
 
 The  gloomy  fhade  defcends  \  a  wretched  flave 
 Mean  as  himfelf,  and  in  this  only  brave, 
 Sent  him  unpity'd  to  a  fordid  grave. 
 
 XX. 
 
 The  deathlefs  trophy  of  the  Ferfic  wars 
 
 Inteftine  broils  (a  dreadful  fcene !)  fucceed. 
 
 Inglorious  triumphs,  and  diflioneft  fears ; 
 
 While  Credo's  bra  veil  fons  confpire  to  make  their 
 
 parent  bleed. 
 
 Had  but  their  matchlefs  virtue  been  employ'd 
 
 In  the  foft  arts  of  gentle  peace, 
 
 Or  fav'd  the  free,  and  (laves  alone  deflroy'd  i 
 
 Ulyjfds*  fame  Ihould  yield  to  Pericles^ 
 
 And  the  great  *  youth,  whom  Socrates  infpir'd. 
 
 Beyond  the  fon  of  Thetis  be  admir'd. 
 
 In  how  bright  luftre  had  the  f  nehan  ihone. 
 
 Had  only  barb'rous  hods  his  valour  known! 
 
 Nor  Sparta  can  of  her  Lyfander  boaft, 
 
 ♦ 
 
 Since  all  the  hero  in  the  tyrant's  loft. 
 Forbear,  illuflrious  fouls,  forbear 
 
 To  tempt  the  angry  skies ; 
 The  pow'rs  fo  much  incenft,  prepare 
 
 Your  madnefs  to  chaftife : 
 An  unknown,  dcfpicable  hand 
 Shall  join  you  in  one  common  woe  \ 
 Ac  '■  her  once  a  flrike  a  fatal  blow. 
 And  drive  th'unwilling  Goddefs  from  the  land. 
 
 ♦  AldSiades,  f  E^aminondas, 
 
 XXL  To 
 
3i8 
 
 POEMS 
 
 XXL 
 
 To  Tlome  the  Charmer  wing'd  her  flight, 
 Rome^  her  darhng  and  deh'ght  % 
 There  Brutus  fix'd  the  heav'nly  Fair's  abode, 
 
 BrutuSy  illuftrious  Demi-god! 
 Fain  would  the  mufe  his  glorious  ads  purfue. 
 And  bring  the  wonders  of  his  life  to  view ; 
 
 Shining  and  great  in  ev'ry  part, 
 Ev'n  then,  when  he  beheld  his  Rome  oppreft. 
 Hid  the  wild  tumults  of  his  throbbing  heart. 
 And  in  tame  folly  well  the  flave  confeft. 
 The  Sov'reign  thus,  whom  heav'n  and  earth  adore^ 
 
 With  well-difTembled  patience  bears 
 
 Some  vile  infulter  of  his  pow'r, 
 Deaf  to  his  wrongs,  and  to  the  injur'd's  prayVs  \ 
 Till  by  repeated  crimes  the  wretch  fecure, 
 Blafphemes  the  eafy  God  that  can  fo  long  endure; 
 
 Then  pointed  lightnings  pierce  the  skies. 
 And  with  amazing  force  the  tardy  vengeance  flies. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Ev*N  now,  methinks,  I  fee  the  hero  ftand, 
 Grafping  Lucretia's  dagger  in  his  hand  ; 
 He  fummons  to  his  aid  deliv'ring  Jove^ 
 And  all  the  tyrant-hating  hofts  above  ; 
 Then  from  below  the  matron  calls,  to  view 
 The  great  revenge  to  her  wrong'd  honour  due. 
 Th'aftonifii'd  crowd  believe  the  chief  infpir'd. 
 And  in  a  moment  to  like  raptures  fir'd. 
 
 Feel 
 
6?;^  Several  Occasions.     319 
 
 Feel  a  loft  vigor  to  their  breafts  reftor'd. 
 Shake  off  their  fetters,  and  abjure  their  lord  : 
 The  bleeding  dame  almoft  remained  unmourn'd. 
 While  peace,and  liberty ,  and  blooming  joys  return'd. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Too  mighty  were  thofe  joys,  too  vaft, 
 Unmix'd  with  lefTer  forrows  long  to  laft  5 
 
 A  few  rafh  youths,  a  thoughtlefs  band. 
 Attempt  the  exil'd  monarch  to  reftore. 
 To  fix  on  former  props  the  fhaken  pow'r. 
 And  load  with  heavier  chains  the  refcuM  land. 
 What  various  horrors,  Conful,  rack'd  thy  mind. 
 Thy  fons  the  firft  in  the  black  lift  to  find  ! 
 Not  long  the  father  with  the  patriot  ftrove. 
 
 Soon  prevail'd  his  country's  love : 
 The  awful  judge  to  the  tribunal  comes. 
 And  to  the  axe  his  guilty  offspring  dooms; 
 And  views  unmov'd  in  each  expiring  fon 
 Rome*sfQ2Lrs  deftroy'd,  and  his  own  hopes  undone. 
 
 The  anguifti  of  his  foul  and  woe. 
 He  well  avenges  on  th'  invading  foe  : 
 Then  dies;  but  ftruck  for  freedom  as  he  fell. 
 And  fent  a  rifing  *  tyrant  down  to  hell. 
 Hail,  great  deliverer  of  a  race  oppreft  ! 
 
 Hail,  name  to  future  ages  bled ! 
 There  ftiall  pure  matrons  fing,  foft  virgins  thee, 
 Avenger  fure  of  injur'd  chaftity  ! 
 
 Tyrants  ftiall  tremble  at  thy  name. 
 And  heroes  yet  to  come  be  kindled  by  thy  flame. 
 
 *  Jlnins. 
 
 XXIV.  But 
 
320 
 
 POEMS 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 But  what  avail  the  wonders  done, 
 Tyrants  expell'd,  and  conqucfts  won? 
 Within  Rome's  bowels  a  domeftic  foe 
 Eredls  a  forcrefs  to  enOave  the  land  •, 
 Its  lofty  heights  the  town  command, 
 And  threaten  ruin  all  below. 
 In  words  like  thefe  the  frighted  crowd 
 Utter  their  complaints  aloud  •, 
 Rafh  complaints !  ill-grounded  fears  ! 
 The  great  ^^/m;/j,  fee,  appears! 
 Submiflive,  fee  I  he  bows  around. 
 And  bends  his  humble  Fafces  to  the  ground. 
 To  you,  he  cries,  from  whom  all  fway  defcends, 
 Romans^  to  you  your  fubjed  Conful  bends : 
 Juftly  you  fhrink  at  arbitrary  ftate. 
 
 But  hard  to  judge  your  magidrate  ! 
 If  e*er  a  pow'r  above  your  laws  I  fought. 
 Or  e'er  your  freedom  injur'd  but  in  thought  \ 
 Turn,  turn  on  this  devoted  head 
 
 The  dreadful  axes  that  you  gave  ; 
 Or  fpeedier  lightning  flafh  me  dead. 
 And  op'ning  earth  become  my  grave! 
 Soon  fhall  this  houfe  be  raz'd,  and  funk  to  dull, 
 Clear  my  fufpe6led  faith,  and  prove  your  fears  un- 
 juft. 
 Already  levcll'd  as  he  fpoke. 
 The  building  finks  amain  ; 
 Down  the  wide  hill  the  ruins  fmokc 
 And  fill  th'  extended  plain* 
 
 Sublime 
 
I 
 
 on  Several  Occasions.     3^1 
 
 Sublime  in  impious  ftate  Verfalia  rife, 
 Fit  for  the  wrath  and  juftice  of  the  skies  ; 
 This  houfe  deftroy'd  eternal  praife  fhall  claim. 
 When  with  thy  pile  is  loft  the  hated  t  foandcr^s 
 name. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Nor  Gods  by  all  the  fpacious  earth  ador'd. 
 With  half  fuch  joy  a  thoufand  kings  behold. 
 
 Each  of  unnumber'd  flaves  the  lord. 
 Decking  their  Ihrines  with  tributary  gold ; 
 
 As  fiU'd  the  Goddefs  when  fhe  faw 
 
 Rome*?,  glorious  offspring  own  her  law. 
 Whom  fhall  I  firft  rehearfe?  the  deathlefs  throng 
 Confounds  the  mufe,  and  tires  the  lab'ring  fong. 
 
 Who  can  enough  th&^Gracchi  praife. 
 Or  ftern  l^orquatus  to  due  honours  raife  ? 
 What  colours  paint  Servilius  as  he  flood 
 Warm  with  great  rage,  and  more  than  half  a  God, 
 His  arm  frefh  reeking  with  a  *  tyrant's  blood  ? 
 
 W^ho  thro'  a  train  of  heroes  trace 
 Th'unfading  glories  of  the  Fabian  race  ? 
 
 In  equal  numbers  who  extol 
 CamilluSy  terror  of  the  impious  Gaul ; 
 And  Manlius  thund'ring  from  the  Capitol? 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Blest  Italy!  where  ev'ry  plain  and  flrcam 
 Immortal  adlions  crown  j 
 
 t  Levis  XIV.  *  S^.  MaUhs. 
 
 Vol.  IL  Y  The 
 
322         POEMS,  ^c. 
 
 The  free-born  mufes  grateful  theme. 
 And  facrcd  to  renown. 
 Hor alius  here  alone  an  army  Hood, 
 Guardian  of  Rome  amidft  furrounding  foes  2 
 Sav'd  Tyber,  bear  his  praifes  on  thy  flood. 
 And  bid  old  ocean  fpread  them  as  he  flows  ! 
 There  CoJ/us  from  a  fcepter'd  tyrant  tore 
 His  life,  and  all  the  gorgeous  arms  he  wore ; 
 The  fpoils  adorn  Feretrian  Jove^s  abode, 
 A  prefent  worthy  of  the  thund'ring  God. 
 Marcellus  here  firil  taught  defpairing  Rome 
 
 That  Hannibal  could  be  overcome. 
 
 (Ijft  unfinijh'd.) 
 
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T  O 
 
 ^        >^         ^       ^        ^       ^  ^ 
 
 ^           *7Z'            •Tv          ^            ^           *1V  ^ 
 
 Ah  intimate  Friend  of 
 Mrs.  R  O  W  E. 
 
 Madam, 
 
 'F  thefe  pious  Me- 
 
 DITATIONS  of  fo 
 
 fublime  a  Genius 
 fhouid  be  infcrib'd 
 to  any  Name,  there  is  none 
 but  Your's  muft  haveftood 
 in  the  Front  of  them.     That 
 
 A  2  lo*-'^- 
 
DEDICJJION. 
 
 long  and  conftant  Intimacy  of 
 Friendlliip  with  which  You 
 delighted  to  honour  her,  that 
 high  Efteem  and  Veneration 
 You  are  pleafed  to  pay  her 
 Memory,  and  the  facred  Like- 
 neis  and  Sympathy  between 
 two  kindred  Souls,  abfolutelv 
 determine  where  this  Refpe6l 
 fliould  be  paid. 
 
 Besides,  Madam,  You 
 well  know,  that  fome  Copies 
 out  of  thefe  Papers  have  been 
 Your  own  feveral  Years  bv  the 
 Gift  of  the  Deceafed ;  and  the 
 Favour   You  have  done  me 
 
 lately 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 lately  by  Your  Permiflion  to 
 perufe  them,  has  aflifled  the 
 Corrections  of  thefe  Manu- 
 scripts, and  would  add  an- 
 other Reafon  to  fupport  this 
 Infcription  of  them,  if  Your 
 Fear  of  affuming  too  much 
 Honour  could  but  have  admit- 
 ted this  Piece  of  Juftice. 
 
 I  KNOW,  Madam,  Your 
 Tendernefs  and  Indulgence  to 
 every  thing  Mrs.  Rowe  has 
 written,  cannot  withold  Your 
 Jud  gment  from  fufpedting  fome 
 of  her  Exprellions  to  be  a  lit- 
 tle  too   rapturous,    and  too 
 
 A  Q,  near 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 near  a-kin  to  the  Language  of 
 the  my ftical  Writers ;  yetYour 
 Piety  and  Candour  will  take 
 no  fuch  Offence  as  to  prevent 
 Your  beft  Improvement  by 
 them  in  all  that  is  Divine  and 
 Holy :  and  may  Your  retired 
 Hours  find  fuch  happy  Af- 
 iiftances  and  Elevations  here- 
 by, that  you  may  commence 
 the  Joys  of  Angels  and  of 
 blefled  Spirits  before-hand. 
 
 And  when  Your  valuable 
 Life  has  been  long  extended 
 amidft  all  the  temporal  Blef- 
 fings  you  enjoy,  and  the  Chri- 
 
 ftian 
 
T>EDICATION. 
 
 ftianVertnesYoupravSllfe,  may 
 You  at  the  Call  of  God  find  a 
 gentle  Difmiffion  from  Morta- 
 lity, and  afcend  on  High  to 
 meet  Your  deceafed  Friend  in 
 Paradife.  Nor  can  I  fjppofe 
 that  any  of  the  Inhabitants  of 
 that  blifsfulReo;ion  will  fooner 
 recognize  Your  glorify'd  Spi- 
 rit, or  will  falute  Yourfirft  Ap- 
 pearance there  with  a  more 
 tender  Senfe  of  mutual  Satif- 
 faclion.  There  may  You  join 
 with  Your  beloved  Philomela^ 
 in  paying  celeftial  Worfhip  in 
 exalted  and  unknown  Forms, 
 to  her  God,  and  Your  God ; 
 
 A  4.  and 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 -and  may  the  Harmony  of  the 
 Place  be  aflifted  by  Your  uni- 
 .ted  Songs  to  Jefus,  your  com- 
 mon Saviour ! 
 
 I  A  M,  Madam,  with  great 
 Sincerity  and  Efteem, 
 
 Tour  mo  ft  Faithful 
 
 Newington,  "^  "^ 
 
 Sept.  29. 
 
 »737- 
 
 and  Obedient 
 
 Servants 
 
 I.  Watts. 
 
THE 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 HE  admirable  Author  of 
 thefe  devotional  Papers 
 has  been  in  high  EJleem 
 amo7ig  the  h^genious  and 
 the  Polite^  Jincefo  many 
 excellent  Fruits  of  her  Pen^  both  i7t 
 Verfe  and  Profe  have  appear  d  hi 
 Publich  She  was  early  honoured  un- 
 der the  feigned  Name  of  Philomela 
 before  the  World  was  allowed  to  htow 
 Mrs.  Elizabeth  Singer  by  the  Name 
 draw?ifrom  her  Family^  or  that  of  Mrs. 
 Rowe  which  foe  acquired  by  Ma^^riage. 
 TH  0'  many  of  her  JVyitings  that 
 were  publifUd  in  her  Life-time  dif- 
 cover  a  pious  a7td  heave?tly  T*e7nper^ 
 and  a  warfn  Zeal  for  Religio7t  and 
 Virtue  ;  yet  fje  chofe  to  C07iceal.  the 
 Devotions  of  her  fleart  till  floe  was 
 got  beyond  the  Cenfure  and  the  Ap- 
 
 plaufe 
 
^  PREFACE. 
 
 plaufe  of  Mortals.  ^Twas  enough 
 that  God^  who7n  Jloe  loved  with  ardent 
 and fupr erne  AffeEiion^  was  TVitnefs  to 
 all  her  fecret  and  i7ttenfe  Breathings 
 after  him. 
 
 I N  February  laft  he  was  pleafed 
 to  call  her  out  of  our  World ^  ajid  take 
 her  to  himfelf  Some  time  after  her 
 Deceafe  thefe  Manufcripts  were  tranf 
 mitted  to  me^  all  inclofed  i7t  one  Sheet 
 of  Paper^  aitd  direSied  to  me  at 
 Nevvington  by  her  own  Hand,  ht 
 the  midjl  of  them  I  fou?id  her  Letter^ 
 which  intreated  me  to  review  them^ 
 and  commit  them  to  the  Prefs.  "This 
 Letter  I  have  thought  necejfary  to 
 fhew  the  TVorld^  ?tot  fo  much  to  dif- 
 cover  my  Ri^ht  topublifj  thefe  Papers^ 
 as  to  let  the  Reader  fee  fomethi?tg 
 more  of  that  holy  a7td  heavenly  Cha- 
 raSier  which  fhe  7nai7itai7i  d  i7t  an  tmi- 
 form  Ma77ner  both  i77  Life  a77d Death. 
 
 ^7^1  S  710W  ahnofl  thirty  Tears  ago 
 fnce  I  was    honouf'd  with  her  Ac- 
 quaintarice^  7ior  could  her  great  Mo- 
 defy 
 
PREFACE.         XI 
 
 dejiy  conceal  all  her  Jhi?nng  Graces 
 and  Acco7npliJbments  ;  but  it  is  not 
 my  Province  to  give  a  particular 
 Accoimt  of  this  excellent  JVo7nan  who 
 has  blefs  d  and  adorn  d  our  Nation 
 a?td  our  Age.  I  expeB^  her  Temper^ 
 her  ConduSi^  and  her  Firtues  will  ha 
 fet  in  a  jujl  and  pleajing  Light 
 among  the  Memoirs  of  her  Lifcj  by 
 fome  near  Relations^  to  whom  the  Care 
 of  her  poetical  Pieces^  and  her  fa- 
 miliar IjCtters  is  committed. 
 
 THESE  Devout  Exercifes  are 
 animated  with  fuch  Fire  as  feems  to 
 fpeak  the  La72guage  of  holy  Paffwn^ 
 a?td  difcovers  them  to  be  the  DiEiates 
 of  her  Heart ;  aitd  thofe  who  were  fa- 
 vour d  with  her  chief  Intimacy  will 
 mofl  readily  believe  it.  The  Style ^  Icon- 
 fefs^  is  raifed  above  that  of  common  Me- 
 ditation  or  Soliloquy ;  but  let  it  be 
 remember  d  Jhe  was  no  common  Chrif- 
 tian.  As  her  Virtues  were  fublime^  fo 
 her  Ge?iius  was  bj^ight  a?td  fparkli?igy 
 and  the  Vivacity  of  her  Imaginatio?i 
 
 had 
 
xii         PREFACE. 
 
 had  a  T'inEiure  of  the  Mufe  almojl 
 from  her  Childhood.  "This  rnadz  it 
 natural  to  her  to  exprefs  the  in- 
 ward Sentiments  of  her  Soul  in  more 
 exalted  Language^  a?id  to  paint  her 
 own  Ideas  in  Metaphor  and  Rapture 
 7iear  a-kin  to  the  DiBion  of  Poefy. 
 
 THE  Reader  will  here  find  a 
 Spirit  dwelli?ig  in  Fleflj^  elevated  into 
 divine  TranfportSy  co7tgenial  to  thofe 
 of  Angels  and  unbodied  Minds.  Her 
 i7itenfe  Love  to  her  God  kindles  at 
 every  Hint^  and  tra7fcends  the  Li- 
 mits of  Mortality.  I  fcarce  ever  met 
 with  any  devotional  Writings  which 
 give  us  an  Kx ample  of  a  Soul^  at  f pe- 
 dal Seafons^  fo  far  raifed  above  every 
 thin^  that  is  not  immortal  a72d  di- 
 vi77e. 
 
 Y  RT foe  is  confciou^  of  her  Frail- 
 ties too  :  She  fo?neti7nes  confejfes  her 
 Folly  amd  her  Guilt  in  the  Sight  of 
 God^  i7i  the  77iofl  affeEii77g  La7iguage 
 of  a  deep  Hu7niliatio7t.  ^Tis  with  a 
 pathetick  Se77fibility  of  her  Weahtefy 
 I  a7id 
 
PREFACE.        xHi 
 
 mid  in  the  Jlro?%geJl  Languacre  of 
 Self-difplicency^  Jhe  bewails  her  Of- 
 fences againft  her  Creator  a7td  Re-- 
 deemer\  and  in  her  Intervals  of 
 Darknefsy  fhe  vents  her  painfulCom- 
 plaints  and  Mourni7tgs  for  the  Ab- 
 fe7Ke  of  her  higheft  a?2d  hefl  beloved. 
 
 L RT  it  be  obferved^  that  it  was 
 much  the  Fafhion^  even  among  fome 
 Divines  of  Eminence  in  former  Years^ 
 to  exprefs  the  Fervours  of  devout 
 Love  to  our  Saviour  in  the  Style  of 
 the  Song  of  Solomon  :  ^W  /  muft 
 confefs  that  feveral  of  my  Compofures 
 in  Verfe  written  in  younger  Life  were 
 led  by  thofe  Examples  unwarily  into 
 this  Track.  But  if  I  may  be  per  knitted 
 to  fpeak  the  Senfe  of  maturer  Acre^  I 
 ca7t  hardly  think  this  the  happiefl 
 La77guage  in  which  Chnjlians  fnould 
 generally  difcover  their  warm  Senti- 
 ments of  Religio7i^  f7tce  the  clearer 
 and  7norefpiritual  Revelations  of  the 
 New  Tefa7nent.  Yet  fill  it  muft  be 
 ow7id^  there  are  fome  Souls  favour  d 
 
 wii!^ 
 
^v         PREFACE. 
 
 nsotth  fuch  beatifying  Vijits  from  Hea- 
 <ven^  andrapturd  with  fuch  a  F/ame 
 of  divine  AffeEiion^  as  more  power- 
 fully engacres  all  animal  Nature  in 
 their  Devotions^  and  conflraim  them 
 to  fpeak  their  purefi  and  mofl  fpiri- 
 itial  Exercifes  in  fuch  pathetick  and 
 tender  Exprefftons  as  may  be  per- 
 n)erfely  profaned  by  an  unholy  Con- 
 flruSiioii.  And  the  Byafs  and  Pro- 
 penfty  toward  this  Style  isyet  flroitger^ 
 where  early  ImpreJJions  of  Piety  have 
 been  made  on  the  Heart  by  devout 
 Writings  of  this  kind. 
 
 I T*  fhould  be  remefnberd  alfo^ 
 there  is  nothing  to  be  found  here 
 which  rifes  above  our  Ideas  ;  here 
 are  none  of  thofe  abjurd  and  i^tcompre- 
 henfible  Phrafes  which  afnufe  the  Ear 
 with  founding  Inanity  ^  and  hold  Rea- 
 fon  in  fovereig7t  ConterHpt :  Here  are 
 no  vifonary  Scenes  of  wild  Extrava- 
 ga?tcey  no  AffeBatio?is  of  the  tumid 
 and  unmeani?tg  Style^  which  fpreads  a 
 glaring   Confufion   over   the   Under- 
 
 flandiitg ; 
 
PREFACE.         XV 
 
 Pandtng ;  nothing  that  leads  the  Rea- 
 der into  the  Region  of  thofe  myjlical 
 Shadows  and  Darhtefs  which  abound 
 in  the  Romifh  Writers^  under  the, 
 Pretence  of  refined  Light  and  fub- 
 lime  Ecfiafy.  Nor  is  the  CharaEler 
 of  this  ingenious  Author  to  be  blemifh- 
 ed  with  any  other  Reproaches  which 
 have  been  foinetimes  cafi  on  fuch  fort 
 of  Meditations. 
 
 I  KNOW  it  hath  beenfaidy 
 that  this  Language  of  Rapture  ad- 
 drefs  d  to  the  Deity^  is  but  a  new 
 "Track  given  to  the  Flow  of  the  fofter 
 Powers  after  the  Difappointment  of 
 fome  meaner  Love ;  or^  at  leafy  ^tis 
 owing  to  the  TVant  of  a  proper  Ob- 
 jeSi  and  Opportunity  to  fix  thofe  te7t-' 
 der  Pafftons  :  But  this  cannot  be  al^ 
 lowed  to  be  the  Cafe  here\  for  as 
 Mrs.  Rowe  had  bee7i  fought  early  by 
 feveral  Lovers^  fo  fhefpent  feveral 
 Years  of  younger  Life  in  the  connu- 
 bial State  with  a  Gentleman  of  fuch 
 Accomplifhments   and  fuch    Circum-- 
 
 fiances^ 
 
^vi         P  R  E  F  A  C  E. 
 
 Jiances^  that  he  was  well  Jit  ted  to  be 
 a  Partner  of  her  Joys  and  Cares. 
 
 I  KNOW  alfo  that  this  f oft  and 
 fajftonate  Turn  of  religious  Medi- 
 tation has  fometimes  been  imputed  to 
 Injuries  and  ill  Treatmeitt  in  the 
 Marriage  State^  whereby  the  fame 
 ylffeSiions  are  wean  d  from  an  unde- 
 fervi72g  ObjeSiy  and  pour  d  out  i7t  amo- 
 rous Language  upon  an  ObjeB  fu- 
 premely  worthy  and  divine.  But  nei- 
 ther has  this  Reproach  any  Pretence  in 
 the  prefe7zt  Cafe  :  That  happy  Pair  had 
 Souls  fo  7iear  a-kin  to  each  other ^  that 
 they  perfeverd  in  i4nco772mon  A7nity 
 and  mutual  SatisfaBio7ty  fo  long  as 
 Providence  favour  d  hi7n  with  Life. 
 ^Tis  fujficie7itly  evide7it  the7i^  that 
 i7t  thefe  Meditations  there  is  no  fecret 
 fanti7ig  after  a  mor^tal  Love  in  the 
 Language  of  Devotio7t  ^a77d  Piety. 
 
 IVOR  yet  ca7t  it  be  objeBed^  that  it 
 was  any  Difplicence  and  Peevifjnefs 
 toward  other  things  rou7td  about  her^ 
 that  taught  her  to  exprefs  herfelf  with 
 
 fuch 
 
PREFACE,  xvii 
 fuch  Contempt  of  the  Things  of  Mor- 
 tality^ and  all  the  gay  and  tempting 
 Scenes  of  the  prefe?it  State  :  She  was 
 by  no  means  four  and  morofe^  and 
 out  of  Humour  with  the  World^  nor 
 with  her  Acquaintance  that  dwelt 
 in  it :  She  often  converfed  freely  with 
 the  Gay  and  the  Great^  and  was  in 
 high  Efeem  among  Perfons  of  Rank 
 and  Honour.  But  Honour  and  Rank 
 among  Mortals^  with  all  the  Scenes  of 
 Gaiety  and  Greatnefs^  were  little^  def- 
 picable^  and  forgotten  Things^  while 
 in  her  devout  Moments^  her  Rye  and 
 her  Heart  were  fixed  on  Gody  the 
 fupreme  Original  of  all  Excellence 
 and  all  Honour. 
 
 IN  common  Life  fhe  was  affable 
 and  friendly  with  Perfons  of  every 
 Rank  and  Degree  \  and  in  her  latter 
 TearSy  as  fhe  drew  nearer  to  Hea- 
 ve?ij  if  fje  avoided  any  things  it  was 
 Gra?ideur  and  publick  Appearances 
 on  Ea?'ih.     But  Jhe  never  fo  concealed 
 
 a  and 
 
xviii       P  R  E  F  A  C  E. 
 
 a?idal?JiraSied  herfelf  fro??i  the  Society 
 of  any  of  her  Fellow-C7''eattcres^  as  to^ 
 defpfe  themeaiieft  of  he?^  Species.  She 
 was  ever  kind  and  compajjionate  ta 
 the  Dijireffed^  and  largely  liberal  to 
 the  Indigent.  Nor  did  fje  7tegle8i 
 the  daily  Duties  of  hu7nan  Life^  un- 
 der a  vain  Imagination  that  Jloe  mo- 
 ved i^i  a  higher  Sphere^  aii^d  was  fe- 
 raphically  exalted  above  them. 
 
 I IV  Jbort^  there  is  7tothing  in 
 thefe  Papers  that  can  jujlly  fupport 
 a?iy  fuch  J  art.  of  Cenfures^^  tho  Me7t 
 of  corimpt  Minds  7nay  cover  the  Bi- 
 ble itfelf  with  .Slander  and  Ridicule. 
 Let  all  fuch  Readers  fla7id  aloof  72or 
 touch  thefe  f acred  Leaves^  left  they 
 Pollute  thon. 
 
 THO'  there  is  not  one  co7nplete  Co- 
 py of  Verjes  a7no7igfl  all  thefe  Tra7jf- 
 ports  of  her  Soul^  yet  foe  ever  ca7^- 
 ryd  with  her  a  Relifj  of  Poefy  eve7i 
 into  her  f acred  Retire77ients.  So7ne- 
 ti772cs  fc  fpfrings  her  Flight  fro77i  a 
 .     .  Line 
 
PREFACE.    ^     xix 
 
 Line  or  two  of  Verfe^  which  her  Me- 
 mory had  i7nprefsd  upo?z  her  Heart : 
 Sometimes  from  the  Midji  of  her 
 religious  Elevations  Jhe  lights  down 
 upon  a  few  Lines  of  fo7ne  mode?^n 
 Poet  J  even  Herbert  as  well  as  Milton, 
 &c.  though  'tis  hut  feldom  fhe  cites 
 their  Names,  At  other  times  the 
 Verfes  fee7n  to  he  the  Kffufton  of  her 
 own  rapturous  T*houghts  in  fudden 
 Melody  and  Metre  ;  or  at  leafl  I  know 
 not  whence  the  Lines  are  copyd :  But 
 jhe  moji  frequently  does  jne  the  Ho- 
 nour  to  make  ufe  of  fo?7te  of  7ny  TV7^i' 
 tings  in  Verfe  in  thefe  holy  Medita- 
 tions of  her  Heart.  Blejfed  he  that 
 God^  who  has  fo  far  favour  d  any 
 thing  77ty  Pen  could  produce^  as  to 
 ^fftfl  fo  fuhli7ne  a  Devotion. 
 
 FROM  the  different  Appearance 
 
 of  the  Paper  and  Ink  info77ie  of  thefe 
 
 Pieces^  as  well  asfro7n  the  early  Tran- 
 
 fcripts  of  feveral  of  them  among  her 
 
 Friends^  'tis  evident  they  were  written 
 
 a    2  i?i 
 
XX  PREFACE. 
 
 in  her  yoimger  Days ;  others  are  of 
 a  much  later  Original^  tho  there  is 
 but  one  that  bears  a  Date^  and  that 
 is  April  30.  1735.  They  feem  to 
 have  been  pe7id  at  fpecial  Seafons 
 and  Occaftons  throughout  the  couffe  of 
 her  Life.  A  few  of  the?7i  bear  the 
 Corre8iio7ts  or  Additio7is  of  her  own 
 Peny  which  difcovers  itfelf  by  a  little 
 difference  of  the  Ha7id-'Writing. 
 
 TH  0'  Jlje  was  7iever  tempted  away 
 fro7n  our  co77iJ?i07i  Chriflia7iity  into  the 
 faJIjio72able  Apoflafies  of  the  Age  ; 
 yet  I  a77i  well  i7tfor7ned  from  many 
 Ha7idsy  that  i7i  her  later  Years  fhe 
 entered  with  more  Zeal  and  Affec- 
 tio7i  into  fofne  of  the  peculiar  Doc- 
 tri7ies  of  the  Gofpel :  And  'tis  evi- 
 dent that  fo77ie  of  thefe  devotio7ial 
 Pieces  have  a  more  evangelick  Turn 
 tha7i  others y  and  proboMy  97tofl  of  thofe 
 were  co7?ipoJed  or  correSied  in  the  lat- 
 ter Part  of  Life.  The  Oppojition 
 ■which  has  of  late  keen   made  to  fome 
 
PREFACE.         xxi 
 
 of  thefe  Truths^  gave  occajion  to 
 her  further  Search  mto  them^  and 
 her  Zeal  for  them.  Ho^s:ever^  I  have 
 placed  thefe  Papers  all  as  I  found 
 thefn  pinned  up  in  a  JVrapping-paper^ 
 tho  'tis  evident^  fro7n  plain  Circum- 
 fiances^  this  is  not  the  Order  in  which 
 they  were  written^  nor  is  that  of  any 
 great  Impo?^tance. 
 
 T^HO'  thefe  Writings  give  us  the 
 Afpirations  of  a  devout  Soul  i7t  her 
 holy  Retirements^  when  fhe  had  no  De- 
 fgit  to  prefent  the  Publickwith  them\ 
 yet  they  did  not  want  a  great  deal  of 
 Adjuftment  or  CorreSiion^   in  order  to  ^ 
 fee  the  Light.     The  Nu7nbers  and  the 
 Titles    are    added  by   the   Publifoer^ 
 as  well    as   the  Breaks  and  PaufeSy 
 which  give  a  fort  of  Reji  to  the  Rea- 
 der s  Mindy    and  make  the  Review 
 more  eafy.     Here  and  there  a  too  ven- 
 turous Flight  is  a  little    7noderated  ; 
 fo7neti7nes  a  Meditation  or  a  Sentence 
 is  cmitpleated^  which  fee^ned  very  im- 
 
 a   3  perfeEiy 
 
xxii        PREFACE. 
 
 perfeSiy  or  a  jhort  Li7ie  or  two  in- 
 
 feriecl  to  introduce  the  Senfe    where 
 
 the  Language  feemd  too  abrupt^  or 
 
 the  Meaning  too   obfctrre.      Her  Soul 
 
 bad  a  large  Set  of  Ideas  in  prefent 
 
 View^  which  made   every  ExpreJJton 
 
 Jhe  ufed  eafy  and  perfpicuous  to  her- 
 
 felf  when  foe  wrote  only  for  her   own 
 
 Ufe ;   tho  fometimes  her   entire  Senfe 
 
 might  not  be  quite  fo  obvious  to  every 
 
 Reader^   without  a  little  IntroduEiion 
 
 into  her  Track  of  Se?2timents.      Upon 
 
 the  wholcy  I  mufl  acknowledge  I  was 
 
 very  ufiwilling  that  this  excelleiit  Work 
 
 fl:iould  lofe  any  Degrees  of  Elega7tce 
 
 or  Bri9'ht?tefs     by   pajftng    thro"   my 
 
 Hands. 
 
 WHEN  the  Manufcript  came 
 fi?^fl  tmder  my  Revifal^  I  read  it  over 
 with  the  Eye  of  aCritick  and  a  Friend^ 
 that  I  might  publifj  ii  with  Honour 
 to  the  Hand  that  wrote  it^  and  with 
 relvjious  Entertaimneiit  and  Adva?i- 
 iacre  to  the  World  :  nor  was  this  Em- 
 
 ploy?nent 
 
PREFACE.        xxiii 
 
 ployment  dejlitute  of  its  proper  Satis- 
 fa£iio72.     But    7iever  did  I  feel  the 
 true  P  leaf  lire  of  thefe  Meditations^  till 
 I   had  fnifjed  this   Labour    of  the 
 Head,  and  bega7i  to  read  them  over 
 again  as    Devout   Exercifes    of  the 
 Heart ;  "Then  I  endeavour  d  to  enter 
 7?iore  e?2tirely  i?2to  the  Spirit  of  the 
 pious  Author^    and  attempted   to  af- 
 fume  her  La?tguage  as  my  own.    But 
 how  muchfuperior    was  the  Satisfac- 
 tion which  I  received  fro7n  this  Re- 
 view^   efpecially    wherefoever    I  had 
 Reafon  to  hope  I  could  pronou77ce   her 
 Words  with  Sincerity  of  Soul  ?  How 
 happily  did  this  raife  a7td  entertain  all 
 my  pleafing  PaJfio7iSy  and  gave  me  a- 
 nother  fort  of  Delight  than  the  dry 
 critical  Perufal  of  theiny    t7i  order  to 
 judge  C07tcerni7tg  their  Propriety?  But 
 I  C07ifefs  alfoy  it  was  a7t  abafing  a72d 
 mortifyi7ig  "Thought^  whe7t  I  fou7td  how 
 often  I  was   C07iflrai7ted  to   drop  the 
 fublime  Exprejft07t  fro77i  77iy  Lips^    or 
 jorbid  my  To7igue  to  ufe  it^  becaufe  my 
 
 a  4  owii 
 
xxiv       PREFACE. 
 
 own  Attainments  funk  fo  far  beneath 
 thofef acred  Elevations  of  Spirit^  and 
 fellfofarjhort  of  thofe  tra7ifcendent 
 Degrees  of  Divine  AffeSiion  and 
 Zeal. 
 
 LET  me  perfuade  all  that  pen fe 
 this  Book^  to  make  the  fame  Experiment 
 that   I  have  done  ;    a?id   when    they 
 have  fhut  out   the  TVorld^   and  are 
 reading  in  their  Retireme?its^  let  them 
 try  how  far  they  can  f peak  this  Lan- 
 guage^   and   affume  thefe  Sentiments 
 as  their  own  :  And  by  afpiring  to  fol- 
 low them^  may  theyfnd  the  fame  Satis- 
 faEiion  and  Delight^  or  at  leafl  learm 
 the  profitable  Lejfons  of  Self  Abafe- 
 ment    a?ul  holy  Shame  :  And  may  a 
 ^oble    and  glorious   Ambition   excite 
 in    their    Breafts   a  f acred  Zeal   to 
 emulate  fo    illuftrious   an  Example. 
 JVhatfoever  Ardours  of  ^  divine  Love 
 have  been  kindled  tn  a  Soul  united  to, 
 Flefh  and  Bloody  may  alfo  be  kindled 
 by    the  fa7ne  Influences  of  Grace  in 
 
 at  her 
 
PREFACE*        xxy 
 
 ether    Spirits,    labouring  under   the 
 
 fame  Clogs  and  Impediments. 
 
 BUT  perhaps,   it   will  be  necef- 
 
 fary  here  to  give  a  Caution  to  fome 
 humble  Chrijlians,    that    they  "Would 
 not  make  thefe  higher  Elevations  of 
 Piety    and    holy  Joy   the   Teji  and 
 Standard  by  which   to  judge  of  the 
 Sincerity  of  their  own  Religion.    Ten 
 thoufand  Saints  are  arrivd  fafe  at 
 Paradife,     who   have    not    been  fa- 
 voured, like  St.  Paul,  with  a  Rapture 
 into    the  third   Heaven,   nor    could 
 ever  arife   to   the   affeBionate  Tranf 
 forts,     and   devout   Joys    of   Mrs. 
 Rowe  ;  Tet  I  hope  all  ferious  Rea- 
 ders may  find  fomething  here,  which, 
 thro   the  Aids  of  the  Blejfed  Spirit, 
 may    raife    them   above    their   tfual 
 Pitch,    may  give    a  new  Spring    to 
 their  religious  Pleafures    and   their 
 i77imortal  Hopes,    and   thereby   ren- 
 der  their  Lives   77iore  holy  and  hea- 
 fvenly. 
 
 THAT 
 
XXVI 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THAT  the  Publication  of  this 
 little  Book  may  be  favour  d  with 
 the  divine  Blejftngfor  this  happy  E7tdy 
 is  the  fern  pre  Defre  and  Requefi 
 of  the  Publtfher^  as  it  was  the  real 
 Motive  of  the  ingenious  and  pious 
 Writer  to  comrnit  them^  by  my  Hand^ 
 to  the  publick  View*  This  fufficiently 
 difcovers  itfelf  in  the  following  Letter. 
 
 To 
 
To  the  Reverend 
 
 Dr.  Watts,  at  Newington. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 THE  Opinion  I  have  of  your  Piety 
 and  Judgment  is  the  Reafon  of  my 
 giving  you  the  Trouble  of  looking  over  thefe 
 Papers,  in  order  to  publifli  them ;  v^hich  I 
 defire  you  to  do  as  foon  as  you  can  conve- 
 niently ;  only  you  have  full  Liberty  to  fup- 
 prefs  what  you  think  proper. 
 
 I  THINK  there  can  be  no  Vanity 
 in  this  Defign,  for  I  am  fenfible  fuch 
 Thoughts  as  thefe  v^ill  not  be  for  the  Tafte 
 of  the  modifh  Part  of  the  World ;  and  before 
 they  appear,  I  fhall  be  entirely  difinterefted  in 
 the  Cenfure  or  Applaufe  of  Mortals. 
 
 The  Refledions  were  occafionally  writ- 
 ten, and  only  for  my  own  Improvement ;  but 
 I  am  not  without  Hopes  that  they  may  have 
 the  fame  Effedl  on  fome  pious  Minds,  as  the 
 reading  the  Experiences  of  others  have  had  on 
 
 my 
 
xxviii  Mrf.  Rowe's  LeUer 
 my  own  Soul.  The  experimental  Part  of  Re- 
 ligion has  generally  a  greater  Influence  than 
 its  Theory;  and  if,  when  I  am  fleeping  in 
 the  Duft,  thefe  Soliloquies  fhould  kindle  a 
 Flame  of  Divine  Love  in  the  Heart  of  the 
 loweft  and  moft  defpifed  Chriftian,  be  the 
 Glory  given  to  the  great  Spring  of  all  Grace 
 and  Benignity. 
 
 I  HAVE  now  done  with  mortal  Things, 
 and  all  to  come  is  vaft  Eternity Eter- 
 nity  How  tranfporting  is  the  Sound!  As 
 
 long  as  God  exifts,  my  Being  and  Happi- 
 nefs  is  fecure.  Thefe  unbounded  Defires, 
 which  the  wide  Creation  cannot  limit,  fliall 
 be  fatisfy'd  for  ever.  I  fhall  drink  at  the  Foun- 
 tain Head  of  Pleafure,  and  be  refrefh^d  with 
 the  Emanations  of  original  Life  and  Joy.  I 
 ihall  hear  the  Voice  of  uncreated  Harmony 
 fpeaking  Peace  and  ineffable  Confolation  to  my 
 Soul. 
 
 I  EXPECT  eternal  Life,  not  as  a  Reward 
 fof  Merit)  but  a  pure  Ad:  of  Bounty.  De- 
 tefting  myfelf  in  every  View  I  can  take,  I  fly 
 to  the  Righteoufnefs  and  Atonement  of  my 
 great  Redeemer,  for  Pardon  and  Salvation ; 
 this  is  my  only  Confolation  and  Hope.  Enter 
 not  into  Judgment,  0  Lord,  'with  thy  Servant ; 
 for  in  thy  Sight  ft:  all  no  Fief  bejiijlifyd. 
 
 Thro' 
 
to  Dr.  Watts.  xxix 
 
 Thro'  the  Blood  of  the  Lamb,  I  hope 
 for  an  entire  Vidtory  over  the  laft  Enemy ; 
 and  that  before  this  comes  to  you,  I  fhall 
 have  reached  the  celeflial  Heights  j  and  while 
 you  are  reading  thefe  Lines,  I  {hall  be  adoring 
 before  the  Throne  of  God,  where  Faith  fhall 
 be  turned  into  Vifion,  and  thefe  languifhing 
 Defires  fatisfy'd  with  the  full  Fruition  of  im- 
 mortal Love.     Adieu. 
 
 Eliz.  Rowe. 
 
 THE 
 
THE 
 
 C  O  NTE  NTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 I.  CUpreme  Love  to  God  3  j 
 
 II.  ^   The  Truth  and  Good?iefs  of  God      39 
 
 III.  Lofiging  after  the  Enjoyment  of  God    4 1 
 
 IV.  God  771'jfupreme^  my  only  Hope  4^ 
 y.  God  a  prefent  Helpy  and  ever  near         51 
 
 VI.  God  an  alUfiificient  Goody  and  my  ojily 
 Happinefs         ^  53 
 
 VII.  A  Covenant  with  God  57 
 
 VIII.  A  Tha?ik'offering  for  faving  Grace  60 
 
 IX.  Evideiice  of  fmcere  Love  to  God  65 
 
 X.  AJfurances  of  Salvation  in  Chrijl  Jefus 
 
 69 
 XL  Thou  art  7ny  God  74 
 
 XII.  Co7if£ion  of  Sin^  with  Hope  of  Pardon 
 
 78 
 
 XIII.  The  Abfence  of  God  on  Earth  83 
 
 XIV.  Banifimentfrom  God  for  ever  86 
 
 XV.  The  Glory  of  God  in  his  Works  of  Crea- 
 tion, Providence,  arid  Redemption       90 
 
 XVI.  Lon'i^in^  for  the  Coming  of  Chrift      94 
 
 »  XVII.  5f^y^. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 XVII.  Seeking  after  an  abfent  God  Page  96 
 
 XVIII.  Appeals  to  God  concerning  the  Supre- 
 macy of  Love  to  him  .  100 
 
 XIX.  A  devout  Rapture^  or  Love  to  God  in- 
 expreffible  103 
 
 XX.  Self  reproof  for  Ina^livity  iiz 
 
 XXI.  A  joyful  View  of  approaching  Death 
 
 114 
 
 XXII.  A  devout  Refignation  of  Self  to  the 
 divi?2e  Power  and  Goodnefs  118 
 
 XXIII^   Redeeming  Love  121 
 
 XXIV.  Pleading  for  Pardon  and  Holinefs  126 
 
 XXV.  A  Tranfport  of  Gratitude  for  faving 
 Mercy  i33 
 
 XXVI.  Importunate  Requejlsfor  the  Return 
 of  God  to. the  Soul  134 
 
 XXVII.  Breathing  after  God,  and  weary  of 
 the  World  H^ 
 
 XX  VIII.  grayer  for fpeedy  SafiBif cation  150 
 
 XXIX.  Gratitude  for  early  and  peculiar  Fa- 
 vours ..  154 
 
 XXX.  Afpiring  after  the  Vifion  of  God  in 
 Heaven  i  SI 
 
 XXXI.  A  folemn  Surrender  of  the  Soul  to 
 God  159 
 
 XXXII.  Trujl  and  Reliance  on  the  divine 
 Promifes  1 60 
 
 XXXIII.  Application  to  the  divine  Truth   1 64 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 XXXIV.  Glory  to  God  for   Salvation   by 
 Jefiis  and  his  Blood  Page  171 
 
 XXXV.  A   Review  of  divine  Mercy  and 
 Faithfulnefi  17  j 
 
 XXX  VI.  Daily  Experiences  of  the  kind  Pro- 
 vidence of  God^  and  pious  Breathings  of 
 the  Soul  towards  the  heavenly  World  ijg 
 
 DEVOUT 
 
DEVOUT 
 
 EXERCISES 
 
 O  F    T  H  E 
 
 HEART,    &'c. 
 
 -if  4^*;  *|«-i|fHi|»  )|il^')ft'»}t*^i^-^'ttt->{t-5^.^^H^^ 
 
 I.   Supreme  Love  to  God. 
 
 H  Y,  O  my  God,  mufi  this 
 mortal  Structure  put  fo  great  a 
 Separation  between  my  Soul 
 and  thee?  I  am  furrounded 
 with  thy  Effence,  yet  1  cannot 
 perceive  thee  \  I  follow  thee,  and  trace  thy  Foot- 
 fteps  in  Heaven  arid  Earth,  yet  I  cannot  over- 
 take thee  ;  thou  art  before  me,  and  I  cannot 
 reach  thee ;  and  behind  me,  and  I  perceive 
 thee  not. 
 
 B  O 
 
34  Devout  Exercises  I. 
 
 O  THOU,  whom  unfeen,  Hove,  by  what 
 powerfal  Influence  doft  thou  attrad:  my  Soul  ? 
 The  Eye  has  not  feen,  nor  the  Ear  heard, 
 nor  has  it  entered  into  the  Heart  of  Man  to 
 conceive,  what  thou  art ;  and  yet  I  love  thee 
 beyond  all  that  mine  Eye  has  feen,  or  my  Ear 
 heard,  beyond  all  that  my  Heart  can  compre- 
 hend. Thou  dwelleft  in  Heights  of  Glory,  to 
 which  no  human  Thought  can  foar,  and  yet 
 thou  art  more  near  and  intimate  to  my  Soul 
 than  any  of  the  Objedls  of  Senfe.  Thefe  Ears 
 have  never  heard  thy  Voice,  and  yet  I  am 
 better  acquainted  with  thee,  and  can  rely  on 
 thee  with  more  Confidence,  than  on  the 
 deareft  Friend  I  have  on  Earth. 
 
 My  Heart  cleaves  to  thee,  O  Lord,  as  its 
 only  Refuge,  and  finds  in  thee  a  fecret  and 
 conftant  Spring  of  Confolation.  I  fpeak  to 
 thee  with  the  utmoft  Confidence,  and  think 
 thy  Being  my  greateft  Happinefs.  The  Re- 
 flection on  thy  Exiftence  and  Greatnefs  recre- 
 ates my  Spirits,  and  fills  my  Heart  with  Ala- 
 crity \  my  Soul  overflows  with  Pleafure,  I  re- 
 joice, I  triumph  in  thy  independant  BlelTed- 
 nefs,  and  abfolute  Dominion.  Reign,  O  my 
 God,  forever,  glorious  and  uncontrourd. 
 
 I,  a  Worm  of  the  Earth,  would  join  my 
 Aficnt  with  the  infinite  Orders  above,  with 
 
 all 
 
T.  of  the  W'E,  AKT.  3 J 
 
 all  thy  flaming  Miniftcrs  who  rejoice  in  thy 
 Kingdom  and  Glory. 
 
 Thd  7iot  "With  the??jy  thy  happier  Race,  allow'- ^ 
 To  view  the  bright  imveiVd  Diviftity  ; 
 (By  no  audacious  Glance  from  mortal  Eyes^, 
 Tbofe  myjlick  Glories  are  to  be  prof  and) 
 But  yet  I  feel  the  fame  immortal  Flame ^ 
 jj., id  love  thee^  tho  unfeen, 
 
 I  LOVE  thee -Thus  far  I  c^n  fpeak,  but 
 
 all  the  reft  is  unutterable ;  and  I  muft  leave 
 the  pleafing  Tale  untold  till  I  can  talk  in 
 the  Language  of  Immortality  :  and  then  I'll 
 begin  the  tranfporting  Story,  which  fhall 
 never  come  to  an  End,  but  be  ftill  and  ftill 
 beginning :  for  thy  Beauties,  O  thou  faireft 
 of  ten  thoufand,  will  ftill  be  new,  and  fhall 
 kindle  frefli  Ardor  in  my  Soul  to  all  Eternity^ 
 The  facred  Flame  fhall  rife,  nor  find  any 
 Limits  till  thy  Perfedlions  find  a  Period. 
 
 I  LOVE  thee,  and  O  thou  that  knoweft- 
 all  things,  read  the  Characters  that  Love 
 has  drawn  on  my  Heart;  What  Excel- 
 lence but  thine  in  Heaven  and  Earth  could 
 raife  fuch  Afpirations  of  Soul,fuchfubHn;e  and 
 fervent  Affeftions  as  thofe  I  feel  ?  Wliat  could 
 
36  Devout  Exercises  L 
 
 fix  my  Spirit  but  boundlefs  Perfeftion  ?  What 
 IS  there  elfe  for  whofe  fake  I  could  defpife  all 
 created  Glory  ?  why  am  I  not  at  reft  here 
 among  fenfible  Enjoyments?  Whence  a- 
 rife  thefe  importunate  Longings,  thefe  infi- 
 nite Defires  ?  Why  does  not  the  compleat 
 Creation  fatisfy,  or  at  leaft  delude  me  with 
 a  Dream  of  Happinefs  ?  Why  do  not  the 
 Obje(5ls  of  Senfe  awake  a  more  ardent  Senti- 
 ment than  things  diftant  and  invifible  ?  Why 
 (liould  I,  who  fay  to  Corruption^  Thou  art  my 
 Father^  afpire  after  a  Union  with  the  im- 
 menfe  Divinity  ? 
 
 You  Angels  of  God,  that  behold  his  Fac«e, 
 explain  to  me  the  facred  Myftery ;  tell  me 
 how  this  heavenly  Flame  began,  unriddle 
 its  wondrous  Generation ."  Who  hath  ani- 
 mated this  mortal  Flame  with  celeftial  Fire, 
 and  given  a  Clod  of  Earth  this  divine  Am- 
 bition ?  What  could  kindle  it  but  the 
 Breath  of  God,  which  kindled  up  my  Soul  ? 
 And  to  thee,  its  amiable  Original,  it  afcendsj  it 
 breaks  through  all  created  ^PerfecSion,  and 
 keeps  on  its  reftlefs  Courfe  to  the  firft  Pat- 
 tern of  Beauty. 
 
 Ye  fiow'ry  Varieties  of  the  Earth,  and 
 you  fparkling  Glories  of  the  Skies,  your  Blan- 
 tliihnu-nts  arc  vain,  whije  I  purfue  an  Ex- 
 cellence 
 
I.  of  the  Heart.  37 
 
 cellence  that  cafls  a  Reproach  on  all  your 
 Glory.  I  would  fain  clofe  my  Eyes  on  all 
 the  various  and  lovely  Appearances  you  pre- 
 fent,  and  would  open  them  on  a  brighter 
 Scene.  I  have  Defires  which  nothing  vifible 
 can  gratify  i  to  which  no  material  things  are 
 fuitable.  O  when  fhall  I  find  Objecfts  more 
 entirely  agreeable  to  my  intelledlual  Facul- 
 ties ?  My  Soul  fprings  forward  in  purfuit  of 
 a  diftant  Good,  whom  I  follow  by  fome 
 faint  Ray  of  Light,  which  only  glimrners 
 by  fliort  Intervals  before  me.  Oh  when  will 
 it  difperfe  the  Clouds,  and  break  out  in  full 
 Splendor  on  my  Soul  ? 
 
 But  what  will  the  open  Vilion  of  thy 
 Beauties  effeft,  if  while  thou  art  but  faintly 
 imagined,  I  love  thee  with  fuch  a  facred  Fer- 
 vour? To  what  bleffed  Heights  fhall  my  Ad- 
 miration rife,  when  I  fhall  behold  thee  in  full 
 Perfedlion  ^  when  I  fhall  fee  thee  as  thou  art 
 exalted  in  Majefly,  and  compleat  in  Beauty  ? 
 How  fhall  I  triumph  then  in  thy  Glory,  and 
 in  the  Privileges  of  my  own  Being  ?  What  in- 
 effable Thoughts  will  rife  to  find  myfelf 
 united  to  the  all-fufHcient  Divinity,  by  Ties 
 which  the  Sons  of  Men  have  no  Names 
 to  exprefs,  by  an  Engagement  that  the  Revo- 
 lution  of  eternal   Years  fliall  not  diffolve  ? 
 
 B  3  The 
 
3 8  Devout  Exercises  L 
 
 The  League  of  Nature  fliall  be  broken,  and 
 the  Laws  of  the  mingled  Elements  be  can- 
 ceird  3  but  m.y  Relation  to  the  Almighty  God 
 ihall  ftand  fix'd  and  unchangeable  as  his 
 own  Exiftence :  Nor  Life^  nor  Deaths  nor 
 Angels^  nor  Frificipalities^  7ior  Poicers,  nor 
 things  prefent^  nor  things  to  comc^  JJjall  ever 
 feparate  me  from  his  Love, 
 
 Triumph,  O  my  Soul,  and  rejoice  ;  look 
 forward  beyond  the  Period  of  all  terreftrial 
 things :  Look  beyond  ten  thoufand  Ages  of 
 celeftial  Bleilednefs,  look  forward  ftill,  and 
 take  an  immcafurable  Profped:  -,  prefs  on  and 
 leave  unnumber'd  Ages  behind,  Ages  of  inef- 
 fable Peace  and  Pkafure ;  plunge  at  once  into 
 the  Ocean  of  Blifs,  and  call  Eternity  itfelf 
 thy  own. 
 
 There  are  no  Limits  to  theProfped  of 
 my  Joy  ;  it  runs  parallel  with  the  Duration  of 
 the  infinite  Divinity:  My  Blifs  is  without 
 jbounds  5  O  when  fhall  the  full  Polieirion  of 
 }t  commence  ? 
 
 IL  rioe 
 
II.  of  the  He  a  rt.  39 
 
 IL  T%eTrtah  d?td  Goodnefs  of  God. 
 
 JCNgravd  as  in  eternal  Brafs, 
 
 The  mighty  Promife  JJnnes ; 
 Nor  can  the  Powers  of  Darknefs  raze 
 Thofe  everlafling  Li?2es, 
 
 ThefacredWordof  Grace  is  fir  ong 
 
 As  that  which  built  the  Skies  > 
 
 TChe  Vcice  that  rolls  the  Stars  ahng 
 Speaks  all  the  Promifes. 
 
 And  they  all  are  built  on  the  immuta- 
 ble Truth  and  Goodnefs  of  thy  Nature: 
 Thou  doft  not  fpeak  at  random  like  vain 
 Man  ;  but  whatever  thou  haft  engag'd  to 
 perform,  is  the  Refult  of  eternal  Counfel  and 
 Defign.  Thou  haft  utter'd  nothing  that  thou 
 can'ft  fee  occafion  to  alter  on  a  fecond  Re- 
 view :  Thou  canft  promife  nothing  to  thy 
 own  Damage,  nor  be  a  Lofer  by  the  utmoft 
 Liberality.  Thou  art  every  way  qualified 
 to  make  good  thy  Engagements  by  the  Ful- 
 nefs  of  thy  Riches  and  Power. 
 
 Nor  haft  thou  any  Necefiity  to  flatter  thy 
 Creatures,  or  to  fay  kinder  things  to  them  than 
 
 B  4  thou 
 
40  Devout  Exercises  II. 
 
 thou  meaneft  to  fulfil.  Miferable  Man  can 
 jbring  no  Advantage  to  thee,  nor  has  he  any 
 thing  to  claim  from  thee.  By  what  Bene- 
 fit has  he  prevented  thee?  By  what  Right 
 pan  he  demand  the  leaft  of  thy  Favouf  s  ? 
 Thy  Engagements  are  all  free  and  uncon- 
 ilrain'd,  founded  on  thy  own  Beneficence, 
 and  not  on  thp  Merits  of  thy  Creature. 
 While  I  confider  this,  my  Expedlations  rife, 
 I  fet  no  Limits  to  my  Hopes :  I  look  up  with 
 Confidence,  and  call  thee  my  Father  y  and 
 with^  a  humble  Faith,  I  claim  every  Advan- 
 tage that  tender  Name  imports.  My  Heart 
 confides  in  thee  with  Stedfaftnefs  and  Ala- 
 crity ;  Fear  and  Diftruft  are  inconfiftent  with 
 my  Thoughts  of  the  Beneficence  of  thy  Na- 
 ture. 
 
 Every  Name  and  Attribute  by  which 
 tjipu  haft  reveaVd  thyfelf  to  Man,  confirms 
 ipy  Faith.  Thy  Life,  thy  Being  is  engaged : 
 I  n)ay  as  well  queftion  thy  Exiftence,  as 
 thy  Faithfalnefs :  As  lure  as  thou  art,  thou 
 art  iuil  and  true.  The  Proteftations  of  the 
 rpoft  faithful  Friend  I  have,  cannot  give  me 
 half  the  Confolation  that  thy  Promifes  give 
 me.  I  hear  vain  Man  with  Diffidence,  I  bid 
 piy  5ouI  bcvrarc  of  truAing  falfe  Mortality ; 
 
 but 
 
III.  of  the  Heart.  41 
 
 but  I  hear  thy  Voice  with  Joy  and  full  Af- 
 iiirance. 
 
 Thy  Words  are  not  writ  in  Sand,  nor  fcat- 
 ter'd  by  the  fleeting  Winds ;  but  fhall  ftand 
 in  force  when  Heaven  and  Earth  (hall  be  no 
 more.  Eternal  Ages  fhall  not  diminifh  their 
 Efficacy,  nor  alter  what  the  Mouth  of  the 
 Lord  hath  fpoken.  I  believe,  I  believe  with 
 the  moft  perfe<3;  AflTent :  I  know  that  thou 
 arfy  and  that  thou  art  a  Rewarder  of  them 
 that  diligently feek  thee  5  I  feel  the  Evidence, 
 for  thou  haft  not  left  thyfelf  without  Witnefs 
 in  my  Heart. 
 
 III.  Longing  after  the  Enjoyment 
 of  God. 
 
 MY  God,  to  thee  my  Sighs  afcend,  e^ 
 very  Complaint  I  make,  ends  with 
 thy  Name :  I  paufe,  I  dwell  on  the  Sound^ 
 I  fpeak  it  over  again,  and  find  that  all  my 
 Cares  begin  and  end  in  thee.  I  long  to  be- 
 hold the  fupreme  Beauty,  I  pant  for  the  fair 
 Original  of  all  that  is  lovely,  for  Beauty  that 
 is  yet  unknown^  and  for  intelledlual  Pleafures 
 
 vet  untafted. 
 
 •'     '  My 
 
A 2  Devout  Exercises  IIL 
 
 My  Heart  afpires,  my  Wifhes  fly  beyond 
 the  Bounds  of  Creation,  and  defpife  all  that 
 Mortality  can  prefent  me  v/ith.  I  was  form'd 
 for  celeftial  Joys,  and  find  myfelf  capable  of 
 the  Entertainments  of  Angels.  Why  may  I 
 not  begin  my  Heaven  below,  and  tafte  at  leaft 
 of  the  Springs  of  Pleafure  that  flow  from 
 thy  Right-hand  for  ever  ? 
 
 Should  I  drink  my  fill,  thofe  Fountains 
 are  ftillexhauftlefs;  Millions  of  happy  Souls 
 quench  their  infinite  Defires  there  :  Millions 
 of  happy  Orders  of  Beings  gaze  on  thy  Beau- 
 ty, and  are  made  Partakers  of  thy  BlefTed- 
 nefs ;  but  thou  are  ftill  undiminilh'd.  No  Li- 
 berality can  wafte  the  Store  of  thy  Perfection; 
 it  has  flow'd  from  Eternity,  and  runs  for 
 tver  frefh,  and  why  muft  I  periih  for  Want  ? 
 
 My  thirfly  Soul  pines  for  the  Waters  of 
 Life:  Oh!  who  will  refrefli  me  with  the 
 pleafurable  Draught  ?  How  long  fliall  I  wan- 
 der in  this  defart  Land,  where  every  Profpedl 
 is  wafte  and  barren  ?  I  look  round  me  in  vain, 
 and  figh  ftill  unfatisfy'd:  Oh  h  who  will  lead 
 me  to  the  ftill  Waters,  and  make  me  repofe 
 in  green  Paftures,  where  the  Weary  are  for 
 ever  at  reft  ?  How  tedious  are  the  Hours  of 
 Expedtation  ? 
 
 ComCy 
 
 r 
 
III.  of  the  Heart. 
 
 43 
 
 Come, Lord,  f?jy  Head  doth  burn,  77iyHeart  isfick^ 
 
 While  thou  dojl  ever^  ever  J} ay ; 
 Tl:y  kng  deferring  wounds  me  to  the  ^licky 
 My  Spirit  gcifpeth  Night  and  Day : 
 Ofiew  thyfelf  to  me. 
 Or  take  me  up  to  thee. 
 
 Dispatch  thy  Commiffions;  give  mc 
 my  Work,  and  Activity  to  perform  it,  and 
 let  me  as  a  Hireling  fulfil  my  Day.  Lord, 
 'tis  enough  :  What  am  I  better  than  my  Fa- 
 thers ?  they  are  dead,  and  I  am  mortal. 
 
 Tm  but  a  Stranger  and  a  Pilgrim  here 
 In  thefe  wild  Regio?2S,  wandering  and  forlorn  -, 
 Rejllefs  andfighingfor  my  native  Home, 
 Longingto  reach  7ny  weary  Space  of  Life, 
 Andtofidfilmy  Taf^.     Oh  !  haf  the  Hour ' 
 Of  jfoy  andfweet  Repofe.  Tranfporting  Hope  I 
 
 Lord,  here  I  am  waiting  for  thy  Com- 
 mands, attending  thyPleafure;  O  fpeakand 
 incline  my  Ear  to  hear  -,  give  me  my  Work, 
 let  me  finifh  it,  and  gain  my  Difmiflion  from 
 this  Body  of  Sin  and  Death  -,  this  hated  Clog 
 of  Error  and  Guilty  of  Corruption  and  Vanity. 
 
 Oh ! 
 
44        Devout  Exercises  HI. 
 
 Oh !  let  me  drop  this  Load,  and  bid  thefc 
 Scenes  of  Guilt  a  final  Adieu. 
 
 I  have  waited  for  thy  Salvation^  O  Lord  - 
 when  wilt  thou  let  me  into  thy  holy  Habi- 
 tation ?  How  long  (hall  I  pine  at  this  Diflance 
 from  thee  ?  What  can  I  fpeak  to  fhew  thee 
 my  Pain,  to  utter  my  Anguifh,  when  I  fear 
 the  Lofs  of  my  God  ?  Oh !  fpeak  an  af- 
 furing  Word,  and  confirm  my  Hope. 
 
 T^ranfporting  Moment  !  when  wilt  thou  appear^ 
 To  crown  my  Hopes ^  and  ba?iij}j  all  my  Fear  f 
 
 Again,  O  my  Father,  and  my  eternal 
 Friend,  I  breathe  out  my  Requefts  to  thee 
 in  this  Land  of  Fatigue  and  Folly !  What  is 
 this  Life  but  a  forry  tirefome  Round,  a  Cir- 
 cle of  repeated  Vanities  ?  Happinefs  has  been 
 never  feen  in  it  fince  Sin  and  Folly  entered : 
 All  is  empty  Appearance,  or  vain  Labour, 
 or  painful  Vexation. 
 
 Siiffic'd  with  Life,  my  languid  Spirits  faint ^ 
 And  fain  would  be  at  rejl.    Oh  I  let  me  enter 
 Thofef acred  Seats,  a?id  after  all  the  Toil 
 Of  Lifcy  begin  an  everlajling  Sabbath, 
 
 Yet  again,  O  Lord,  I  a{k  leave  to  tell 
 
 thee,    I  have  waited  for  thy  Salvation,  and 
 
 hourly 
 
IV.  of  lie  Heart.  45 
 
 hourly  languifh'd  after  the  Habitations  of  my 
 God.  My  Heart  grows  fick,  and  I  almoft 
 expire  under  thefe  Delays:  What  have  I 
 here  to  keep  me  from  thee  ?  What  to 
 reheve  the  tedious  Hours  of  Abfence?  I 
 have  pronounced  all  below  the  Sun,  Vanity 
 and  Vexation,  all  infipid  and  burthenfome. 
 Amidft  Health  and  Plenty,  Friends  and  Re- 
 putation, thou  art  my  only  Joy,  my  higheft 
 Wifh,  and  my  fupreme  Delight.  On  thee 
 my  Soul  fixes  all  her  Hopes  j  there  I  reft  in  a 
 celeftial  Calm  !  Oh !  let  it  not  be  broken  with 
 earthly  ObjecSs ;  let  me  live  unmolefted  with 
 the  Cares  or  Delights  of  Senfe. 
 
 Oh  !  let  meJJce 
 From  all  the  Worlds  and  live  alone  /6?  Th  ee. 
 
 !^^^i^^^^^^^^^f^^^*^^^^fS2P»^^^ 
 
 IV.  God   my  ftcpreme^    my  only 
 
 Hope* 
 
 WHY  do  I  addrefs  thee,  my  God,  with 
 no  more  Confidence  ?  Why  do  I  in- 
 dulge thefe  Remains  of  Unbelief,  and  har- 
 bour thefe  Returns  of  Infidelity  and Diftruft  ? 
 
 Can 
 
46         Devout  Exercises  IV. 
 
 Can  I  furvey  the  Earth,  can  I  gaze  on  the 
 Strudure  of  the  Heavens,  and  alk  if  thoii 
 art  able  to  dehver  ?  Can  I  call  in  quefllon  thy 
 Ability  to  fuccour  me,  when  I  confider  the 
 general  and  particular  Inftances  of  thy  Good- 
 nefs  and  Power?  One  Age  to  another,  in 
 long  Succeffion,  hath  convey 'd  the  Records 
 of  thy  Glory ;  In  all  Generations  thou  hajl 
 bee?i  our  Dwelling-place^  my  Fathers  triijied 
 in  thee^  and  were  deliver  d.  They  have  en- 
 couraged me,  my  own  Experience  has  en- 
 couraged me  to  trufl:  in  thee  forever. 
 
 The  Sun  may  fail  to  rife,  and  Men  in 
 vain  exped:  its  Light ;  but  thy  Truth,  thy 
 Faithfulnefs  cannot  fail :  The  Courfe  of  Na- 
 ture may  be  revers'd,  and  all  be  Chaos  again  j 
 but  thou  art  immutable,  and  can'ft  not  by  any 
 Change  deceive  the  Hopes  of  them  that  truft 
 in  thee.  I  adore  thy  Power,  and  fubfcribe 
 to  thy  Goodnefs  and  Fidelity,  and  what  far- 
 ther Objection  would  my  Unbelief  raife  ?  Is 
 any  thing  too  hard  for  God  to  accomplifh  ? 
 Can  the  united  Force  of  Earth  and  Hell  refift 
 his  Will  ? 
 
 Great  Gody  how  wide  thy  G lories JJjine  ! 
 How  broad  thy  Kingdom ^  how  divi?2e  ! 
 Nature  and  Miracle^  and  Fate  and  Chance 
 are  thine ^  T  h  e  R  e- 
 
IV.  of  t/je  He  ART.  47 
 
 Therefore  I  apply  my felf  immediate- 
 ly to  thee,  and  renounce  all  the  Terror  and 
 all  the  Confidence  that  may  arife  from  Hea- 
 ven or  Earth  befides. 
 
 Not  from  the  Duji  7ny  Joys  or  Sorrows fpring  i 
 Let  all  the  baleful  Plaiietsfhed 
 "Their  miJigled  Curfes  round  my  Head  y 
 Their  mingled  Curfes  Idefpife^ 
 Let  but  the  great,  tlo  eternal  Ki?ig, 
 Look  thro  the  Clouds,  andblefs  ?newith  his  Eyes, 
 
 Let  him  blefs  me,  and  I  (hall  be  blefs'd  ; 
 blefs'd  without  Referve  or  Limitation  j  blefs'd 
 in  my  going  out,  and  coming  in  ;  in  my  fit- 
 ting down,  and  rifing  up;  blefs'd  in  Time, 
 and  blefs^d  to  all  Eternity.     That  BleflTing 
 from  thy  Lips  will  influence  the  whole  Crea- 
 tion, and  attend  me  wherever  I  am.     It  (hall 
 go  before  me  as  a  leading  Light,  and  follow 
 me  as  my  protefting  Angel.  When  Hie  down, 
 it  will  cover  me,  I  fliall  reft  beneath  the  Sha- 
 dov/  of  the  Moft  High,  and  dwell  fefely  in 
 the  Secrets  of  his  Tabernacle. 
 
 Thy 
 
48        Devout  Exercises  IV^ 
 
 Thy  Kingdom  rukth  over  all,  O  Lord, 
 and  thou  dojl  accordmg  to  thy  Will  in  the 
 Armies  ofHeavefi^  and  a^nong  the  Inhabitants 
 of  the  Earth  :  I  confefs  and  acknowledge  thy 
 Providence.  The  w^ays  of  Man  are  not  at  his 
 own  difpofal,  but  all  his  Goings  are  ordered 
 by  thee ;  all  Events  are  in  thy  Hands,  and 
 thou  only  can  ft  fucceed  or  difappoint  his 
 Hopes.  If  thou  blow  on  his  Defigns,  they 
 are  for  ever  blafted  ;  if  thou  blefs  them,  i^ei- 
 ther  Earth  nor  Hell  can  hinder  their  Succefs  • 
 Therefore  I  apply  myfelf  immediately  to 
 theci  for  not  all  created  Power  canaffiftme 
 without  thee. 
 
 Hence  from  my  Hearty  ye  Idols,  fee, 
 Te  founding  Names  of  Vanity  I 
 No  more  my  I'ojigue  fiall  facrifce 
 To  Chance  and  Nature ,  Tales  and  Lies  -, 
 Creatures  without  a  God  can  yield  me  ?io 
 Supplies, 
 
 Not  all  the  Power  of  Men  on  Earth, 
 nor  Angel,  nor  Saint  in  Heaven,  can  help  or 
 relieve  me  in  the  Icaft  Exigence,  if  my  God 
 hide  himfelf  and  ftand  afar  off  from  me. 
 Second  Caufes  are  all  at  thy  Diredion,  and 
 cannot  aid  me  till  commiffion'd  by  thee. 
 
 Lord^ 
 
VI.  of  Jtie  He  ART.  ^9 
 
 LorJ^  when  my  thoughtful  Soulfurnjeys 
 Fire^  Air  and  Earthy  and  Stars  and  Seas^^ 
 
 I  call  them  all  thy  Slaves ; 
 CommiJJtond  by  my  Fathers  Will, 
 Poifonjhallaire,  or  Balms  Jh all  kill  j 
 Vernal  Suns ^  or  Zephyrs  ^r^^//j 
 May  burn  or  blajl  the  Plants  to  Death 
 
 T'hatfiarp  December  y^'u^i. 
 What  can  Winds  or  Planets  hoajl^ 
 
 But  a  precarious  Power  ? 
 ^he  Sun  is  all  in  Darknefs  lofly 
 ^FroJlJI:allbe  Fire,  and  Fire  be  Frojl, 
 When  be  appoints  the  Hour, 
 
 At  thy  Command  Nature  and  Necef- 
 fity  are  no  more  ;  all  things  are  alike  eafy  to 
 a  God:  Speak  but  thou  the  Word,  and  my 
 Deiires  are  granted  :  Say,  Let  there  be  Light, 
 and  there  (hall  be  Light.  Thou  canft  look  me 
 into  Peace,  when  the  Tumult  of  Thoughts 
 raife  a  Storm  within.  Bid  my  Soul  be  ftill, 
 and  all  its  Tempeft  Ihall  obey  thee. 
 
 I  DEPEND  only  on  thee  5  do  thou  fmile, 
 and  all  the  World  may  frown :  Do  thou 
 iucceed  my  Affairs,  and  I  fliall  fear  no  Ob- 
 ftqicle  that  Earth  or  Hell  can  put  in  my  way, 
 
 C  Thou 
 
CO         Devout  Exercises  IV. 
 
 Thou  only  art  the  Objeft  of  my  Fear,  and 
 all  my  Delires  are  diredted  to  thee. 
 
 Human  Things  have  loft  their  Being  and 
 their  Names,  and  vanifli  into  nothing  before 
 thee ;  they  are  but  Shades  and  Difguifes  to 
 vail  the  aftive  Divinity.  Oh !  let  me  break 
 thro*  all  thefe  Separations,  and  fee  and  con- 
 fefs  the  great,  the  governing  Caufe.  Let  no 
 Appearance  of  created  things,  hov^ever  fpe- 
 cious,  hide  thee  from  my  View:  Let  me 
 look  thro'  all  to  thee,  nor  caft  a  Glance  of 
 Love  or  Hope  below  thee.  With  a  holy 
 Contempt  let  me  furvey  the  ample  Round 
 of  the  Creation,  as  lying  in  the  Hollow 
 of  thy  Hand,  and  every  Being  in  Hea- 
 ven and  on  Earth  as  unmoveable  by  the  moft 
 potent  Caufe  in  Nature,  till  commiffion'd  by 
 thee  to  do  me  Good  or  Hurt.  Oh  !  let 
 thy  Hand  be  with  me  to  keep  me  from 
 Evil,  and  let  me  abide  under  the  Shadow  of 
 the  Almighty :  I  (hall  be  fecure  in  thy  Pa- 
 vilion. To  thee  I  fly  for  Shelter  from  all 
 the  Ills  of  Mortality. 
 
 V.  God 
 
V.  ofdeHEAKt.  51 
 
 V.  God  a  prefent  Help^   and  ever 
 
 near. 
 
 THOU  waft  found  of  me,  O  my  God, 
 when  I  fought  thee  not,  and  wilt 
 thou  fly  me  when  I  feek  thee  ?  Am  I  giving 
 my  Breath  to  the  Wind,  and  fcattering  my 
 Petitions  in  the  Air  ?  Is  it  a  vain  thing  to  call 
 upon  God  ?  and  is  there  no  Profit  in  crying 
 to  the  Almighty  ?  Art  thou  a  God  afar  off^ 
 and  not  near  at  Hand  ?  Is  there  any  Place 
 exempt  from  thy  Prefence?  any  Diftance 
 whence  my  Cries  cannot  reach  thee !  Can  any 
 Darknefs  hide  me  from  thy  Eyes?  or  is 
 there  a  Corner  of  the  Creation  unvifited  by 
 thee  ?  Doft  thou  not  fill  Heaven  and  Earth, 
 and  am  I  not  furrounded  by  thy  Immen- 
 
 fity? 
 
 Are  myDefires  unknown  to  thee?  or  is 
 there  a  Thought  in  my  Heart  conceal'd  from 
 thee  ?  Doft  not  thou  that  haft  form'd  the 
 Ear,  hear?  Canft  thou  forget  the  Work 
 of  thy  own  Hands  ?  Or  retir'd  far  in  the 
 Heavens,  full  of  thy  own  Happinefs,  canft 
 thou  leave  thy  Creation  to  Mifery  and  Dif- 
 order,  helplefs  and  hopelefs  ?  Are  the  Ways 
 of  Man  at  his  own  Difpofal,  and  his  Paths 
 
 C  2  undi- 
 
? 
 
 52  Devout  Exercises  V, 
 
 undireded  by  thee  ?  Is  calling  on  the  living 
 God  no  more  than  worfhipping  a  dumb  Idol  ? 
 Canft  thou,  like  them,  di%-)point  and  mock 
 thy  Adorers  ? 
 
 Art  thou  unacquainted  with  the  Extent  of 
 thy  own  Power,  that  thou  fhouldft  promife 
 beyond  thy  Ability  to  perform  ?  Or  art  thou 
 as  a  Man^  that  JI:otiId/i  lie ;  or  the  Son  of  Man 
 thatflmildll  repent  ?  Is  thy  Faithfulnefs  un- 
 certain, and  thy  Power  precarious  ?  Are  thofe 
 Perfedions  imaginary  for  which  Men  adore 
 thee,  and  thy  gracious  Names  infignificant 
 Titles  ?  Do  the  Children  of  Men  in  vain  put 
 their  Trujl  under  the  Shadow  of  thy  Wings  ? 
 Art  not  thou  a  prefent  Help  in  the  Time  of 
 Trouble^  and  is  there  no  Security  in  the  fecret 
 Places  of  the  Moft  High  ?  Whither  then 
 iliall  I  look  in  my  Diftrefs?  To  whom 
 fliall  I  dired:  my  Prayer  ?  From  whom  fhall  I 
 expedt  Relief,  if  there  is  no  Help  in  God 
 for  me  ? 
 
 B  (J  T,  Oh  !  what  Unrighteoufnefs  have 
 my  Fathers  ever  found  in  thee?  What  In- 
 juftice  can  I  charge  thee  with  ?  What  Breach 
 of  Truth,  or  Want  of  Pity  ?  Have  the  Re- 
 cords of  thy  Adlions  ever  been  ftain'd  wdth 
 the  Breach  of  Faithfulnefs  ?  Art  thou  not 
 mv  only  Hope,    and  my   long-experienc'd 
 
 Sun- 
 
VI.  of  the  Vi^  avlT.  53 
 
 Support?  Have  I  ever  found  Help  from  the 
 Creatures  when  thou  haft  fail'd  me  ?  Have  I, 
 or  can  I  have,  a  greater  Certainty  than  thy 
 Word  to  depend  on  ?  Can  any  other  Power 
 defend  or  deliver  like  thee  ?  Thou  art  a 
 Rock,  and  thy  Work  is  perfe5i,  for  all  thv 
 Ways  are  Judgment :  A  God  of  Truth,  and 
 without  Iniquity y  jujl  and  right  art  thou. 
 With  my  laft  Breath  I  will  witnefs  to  thy 
 Truth  and  Faithfulnefs,  and  declare  thy  Good- 
 nefs  to  the  Children  of  Men, 
 
 VI.   God  an  All-fufictent  Good^  and 
 my  ofily  Happinefs. 
 
 TX/HT  is  my  Heart  fo  far  from  thee^ 
 
 My  God,  my  chief  Delight  ? 
 TVhy  are  my  Thoughts  no  more  by  Day 
 With  thee,  no  more  by  Night  ? 
 
 Why  jhould  my  foolijh  PaJJions  rove  ? 
 
 Where  canfuch  Sweetnefs  be 
 As  I  have  tajied  in  thy  Love^ 
 
 As  I  have  found  in  thee  ? 
 
 C  3  Where 
 
54  Devout  Exercises  VL 
 
 Where  can  I  hope  to  meet  fuch  Joys  as 
 thy  Smiles  have  given  me  ?  Where  can  I  find 
 Pleafure  fo  fincere  and  unallay'd  ?  When  I 
 have  enjoy'd  the  Light  of  thy  Countenance, 
 and  the  Senfe  of  thy  Love,  has  not  all  my 
 Soul  been  fiU'd  ?  Have  I  found  any  Want  or 
 Emptinefs  ?  Has  there  been  any  Room  left 
 for  Defire,  or  any  Profped:  beyond,  befides 
 the  more  perfec!!:  Enjoyment  of  my  God? 
 Have  not  all  the  Glories  of  the  World  been 
 darkned,  and  turn'd  into  Blacknefs  and  Defor- 
 mity ?  How  poor  how  contemptible  have 
 they  appeared  ?  Or  rather  have  they  not  all 
 difappear'd  and  vanifh'd  as  Dreams  and  Sha- 
 dows in  the  Noon  of  Day,  ^nd  under  the 
 Blaze  of  Sun-beams  ? 
 
 I  HAVE  never  found  Satisfaffion  in  any 
 thing  but  in  God  ^  why  then  do  I  wander 
 from  him  ?  why  do  I  leave  the  Fountain  of 
 living  Water  for  broken  Cifterns?  why  do 
 I  abandon  the  full  Ocean  in  fearch  of  (hallow 
 Streams  ?  What  Account  can  I  give  for  Folly 
 like  this?  I  can promife  myfelf  nothing  from 
 the  Creature ;  thofe  Expeftations  fhall  de^ 
 ceive  me  no  more.  'Tis  thou,  my  God,  thou 
 art  the  only  Objed  of  my  Hopes  and  Defires  \ 
 *tis  thou  only  that  canft  make  me  happy. 
 
 If 
 
VI.  of  the  He  A  KT.  55 
 
 I  F  thou  frown,  my  Being  is  a  Curfe : 
 Thy  Indignation  is  Hell  with  all  its  Terrors. 
 Let  me  never  feel  that,  and  I  defy  all  things 
 elfe  to  make  me  miferable.  I  feem  indepen- 
 dant  on  all  Nature,  to  thee  only  I  apply  my- 
 felf.  Hear  me,  thou  beneficent  Author  of 
 my  Being,  thou  Support  of  my  Life,  to  thee 
 I  dired;  my  Wiihes,  thofe  Defires  which  thou 
 wilt  approve,  while  I  afk  but  the  Happinefs 
 I  was  created  to  enjoy.  Oh !  fix  all  my  Ex- 
 pectation on  thee,  and  free  me  from  this  Levi- 
 ty and  laconftancy. 
 
 Look  gently  down^  Almighty  Grace^ 
 Prifon  me  round  in  thy  Embrace ; 
 Pity  the  Heart  that  would  be  thine^ 
 And  let  thy  Power  my  hove  confine. 
 
 Suffer  me  never  to  ftart  from  thee ;  fuch 
 a  Confinement  were  fweeter  than  Liberty  : 
 TChy  Toke  is  eafy^  and  thy  Burden  light,  I 
 fhall  blefs  the  Chain  that  binds  me  to  thee. 
 Oh !  give  me  fuch  a  View  of  thy  Beauty  as 
 fhall  fix  my  volatile  Heart  for  ever ;  fuch  a 
 View  as  fhall  determine  all  its  Motions,  and 
 be  a  conflant  Conviftion  how  unreafonable 
 it  is  to  wander  from  thee. 
 
 C  4  Is 
 
^6  iDevout  Exercises  Vh 
 
 Is  It  that  I  relifli  any  thing  beyond  thy 
 Love  ?  Oh  !  no.  I  appeal  even  to  thee,  who 
 canfl  not  be  deceiv'd,  and  knoweft  the  in- 
 tnoft  Secrets  of  my  Soul :  Thou  knoweft 
 where  the  Balance  of  my  Love  falls,  and  that 
 my  V/andrings  are  not  deliberate  -,  that  'tis 
 not  by  Choice  that  I  forfake  thee.  I  grieve^ 
 1  figh  for  my  Folly  >  lliouldft  thou  forgive 
 ^'.e.  V  can  never  forgive  myfelf,  for  I  know 
 .o  incxcufable. 
 
 I  WANT  nothing  when  I  am  poflefs'd  of 
 thee  y  without  thee  I  want  all  things.  Thou 
 art  the  Centre  of  all  my  Paffions  ;  I  have  no 
 Kope  but  what  is  thine,  no  Joy  but  what 
 flows  from  thee  *.  my  greateft  Fears  are  thofe 
 of  loiing  thee  -,  my  inmoft  Care  is  to  fecure 
 thy  Favour.  This  is  the  Subjeft  of  my  deep- 
 eft  Anxiety  :  Every  Sigh  I  breathe  ends  in  thy 
 Name,  and  that  lov'd  Name  alone  allays 
 every  Anguiili  of  my  Soul,  and  calms  its 
 wildeft  Tempefts. 
 
 From  thy  Frowns  or  Favour  all  my  Joys 
 or  Sorrows  fpring  ;  thy  Frowns  can  make  me 
 infinitely  miferable,  thy  Favour  can  make  me 
 infinitely  blcfTed.  I  can  defy  Hell,  and  fmile 
 in  the  Face  of  Death,  whilft  I  can  call  thee 
 mi?7t\  M  V  God  !  ftill  let  me  blefs  the  Sound, 
 and  part  with    all    tijings    ratlier  than  re- 
 
 nonrsce 
 
VIL  ^//5^  Heart.  57 
 
 nounce  my  Propriety  in  thee :  Let  me  hold 
 it  to  my  lafl  Breath,  and  claim  it  with  my 
 expiring  Sighs. 
 
 Secure  of  thee  nothing  can  terrify  my 
 Soul ;  all  is  peaceable  and  ferene  within,  e- 
 ternal  Love  and  immortal  Pleafure  :  I  deiire 
 no  more ;  Imagination  flops  here,  and  all  my 
 
 Wifhes  are  loft  in  eternal  Plenty. My 
 
 God  !  more  cannot  be  afked,  and  with  lefs 
 I  fhould  be  infinitely  miferable.  The  King- 
 doms of  the  Skies  fliould  not  buy  my  Title 
 to  thee  and  thy  Love :  The  Bleffednefs  of 
 all  Creatures  is  complete  here,  for  God  him- 
 felf  is  blefled  in  himfelf  for  even 
 
 What  can  1  add^  for  all  my  Words  are  faint  ^ 
 Celejiial  Love  no  Eloquence  can  paint  ? 
 No  more  can  be  in  mortal  Sounds  exprefsdy 
 But  vaji  Eternity Jfoall  tell  the  rejl, 
 
 VIL  A  Covenant  with  God. 
 
 INcomprehenfible  Being,  who  fearchefi 
 the  Hearty  and  trieft  the  Rei?is  of  the 
 Children  of  Men^  thou  knoweft  my  Since- 
 rity,   and  my  Thoughts  are  all  unveiled  to 
 
 thee  ; 
 
58  Devout  Exercises        VII. 
 
 thee :  I  am  furrounded  with  thine  Immen- 
 fity ;  thou  art  a  prefent,  tho'  inviiible  Wit- 
 nefs  of  the  folemn  Affair  I  am  now  engaged 
 in.  I  am  now  taking  hold  of  thy  Strength^ 
 that  I  may  make  Peace  with  thee^  and  entring 
 into  Articles  with  the  Almighty  God:  Thefe 
 are  the  happy  Days  long  fince  predicted,  when 
 one  JJ:  all  fay  ^  lam  the  Lord's^  and  another  Jlo  all 
 call  hifnfelf  by  the  Name  of  Ifrael,  and  am- 
 ther  ftdall  fuhfcribe  with  his  Hand  to  the  Lord-, 
 and  /  will  be  their  God^  and  they  Jhall  be  my 
 Sons  and  my  "Daughters^  faith  the  Lord  Je- 
 hovah. 
 
 With  the  moft  thankful  Sincerity  I  take 
 hold  on  this  Covenant,  as  'tis  more  fully 
 manifefted  and  explained  in  thy  Gofpel  by 
 Jefus  Chmjl  5  and  humbly  accepting  thy  Pro- 
 pofals,  I  bind  myfelf  to  thee  by  afacred  and 
 everlafting  Obligation.  By  a  free  and  deli- 
 berate Action,  I  do  here  ratify  the  Articles 
 which  were  made  for  me  in  my  Baptifm  into 
 the  Name  of  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the 
 Holy  Spirit  j  I  religioufly  devout  myfelf  to 
 thy  Service,  and  entirely  fubmit  to  thy  Con- 
 dud:.  I  renounce  the  Glories  and  Vanities  of 
 the  World,  and  chufe  thee  as  my  Happinefs, 
 my  fupreme  Felicity  and  everlafting  Portion. 
 I  make  no  Article  with  thee  for  any  thing 
 
 belides : 
 
VII.  ^/^^  Heart.  59 
 
 befides :  Deny  or  give  me  what  thou  wilt, 
 I  will  never  repine  while  my  principal  Trea- 
 fure  is  fecure.  This  is  my  deliberate,  my 
 free  and  fincere  Determination  ;  a  Deter- 
 mination, which,  by  thy  Grace,  I  will  never 
 retraft. 
 
 Oh  !  thou,  by  whofe  Power  alonelfhall 
 be  able  to  ftand.  Put  thy  Fear  in  my  Hearty 
 that  I  may  never  depart  from  thee :  Let  not 
 the  World,  with  all  its  Flatteries ;  nor  Death, 
 nor  Hell,  with  all  their  Terrors,  force  me  to 
 violate  this  facred  Vow.  Oh !  let  me  never 
 live  to  abandon  thee,  nor  draw  the  impious 
 Breath  that  would  deny  thee. 
 
 And  now  let  furrounding  Angels  wit- 
 nefs  for  me,  that  I  folemnly  devout  all  the 
 Powers  and  Faculties  of  my  Soul  to  thy  Ser- 
 vice; and  when  I  prefumptuoufly  employ 
 any  of  the  Advantages  thou  haft  given  me,  to 
 thy  Difhonour,  let  them  teftify  againft  me, 
 ^nd  let  my  own  Words  condemn  me. 
 
 Elizabeth  Rowe. 
 
 Thus  have  I  fubfcrib'd  to  thy  gracious 
 Propofals,  and  engaged  my  felf  to  be  the 
 Lord's :  And  now  let  the  Malice  of  Men, 
 and  the  Rage  of  Devils,  combine  againft  me, 
 I  can  defy  all  their  Stratagems  \  for  God  him- 
 
 felf 
 
6o       Devout  Exercises       VllL 
 
 felf  is  become  my  Friend,  yefus  is  my  all- 
 fufficien^  Saviour,  and  the  Spirit  of  God,  I 
 truft,  will  be  my  Sandlifier  and  my  Com- 
 forter. 
 
 O  HAPPY  Day!  tranfporting  Moment! 
 The  brighteft  Period  of  my  Life!  Heaven 
 with  all  its  Light  fmiles  on  thee  :  What  glo- 
 rious Mortal  can  now  excite  my  Envy  ?  What 
 Scene  to  tempt  my  Ambition  could  the  whole 
 Creation  difplay  ?  Let  Glory  call  me  with  het 
 exalted  Voice ;  let  Pleafure,  with  a  fofter  Elo- 
 quence, allure  me  -,  the  World  in  all  its  Splen- 
 dour appears  but  a  Trifle,  while  the  infinite 
 God  is  my  Portion.  He  is  mine  by  as  fure  a 
 Title  as  eternal  Veracity  can  confer :  The 
 Right  is  unqueftionable,  the  Conveyance  un- 
 alterable. The  Mountains  fhall  be  removed, 
 and  the  Hills  be  diflfolv'd,  before  the  ever- 
 lafting  Obligation  fhall  be  cancell'd. 
 
 VIII.  y^  Tha72k-Offering  for  favtng 
 
 Grace. 
 
 TVLefs  the  Lord^  0  my  Soul,  and  all  that  is 
 
 within  me  blefs  his  holy  Name :  Blefs  the 
 
 Lord,  and  forget  not  all  his  Benefits,  who  re- 
 
 deemeth 
 
VIII.         of  the  'Rv.Av^r.  6i 
 
 deemeth  thy  Life  from  DeftruElion^  and  crown-- 
 eth  thee  with  Lovijig-kindnefs^  and  tender  Mer-^ 
 cy ;  who  brought  thee  out  of  the  Mire  and 
 Clay,  and  fet  thy  Feet  upon  a  Rock ;  who 
 broke  thy  Fetters,  and  freed  thee  from  the  mi- 
 ferable  Bondage  of  Sin.  I  lay,  a  wretched 
 Slave,  pleas'd  with  my  Chains,  and  fond  of 
 my  Captivity,  fatally  deluded  and  undone, 
 till  Love,  almighty  Love,  refcued  me.  Bleft 
 Eifed  of  unmerited  Grace  !  I  fhall  Hand  for 
 ever  an  illuftrious  Inftance  of  boundlefs 
 Mercy :  To  that  I  muft  entirely  afcribe  my 
 Salvation,  and  thro'  all  the  Ages  of  Eternity 
 ril  rehearfe  the  Wonders  of  redeeming  Love, 
 ^nd  tell  to  liftening  Angels  what  it  has  done 
 for  my  Soul. 
 
 Illfing  the  endlefs  Miracles  of  Love ; 
 For  ever  that  my  lofty  Theme  Jhall  prove. 
 
 My  glorious  Creator,  why  did  I  employ  thy 
 Thoughts  before  I  had  a  Being  ?  Why  from 
 all  Eternity  was  an  Immortality  defigned  me, 
 and  my  Birth  allotted  me  in  a  Land  illumi- 
 nated with  the  Rays  of  facred  Light  ?  I 
 might  have  been  invoking  the  Powers  of 
 Hell  with  deteftable  Ceremonies,  inftead  of 
 adoring   the  omnipotent  God.      But   when 
 
 thoufand$ 
 
62  Devout  Exercises       VIIL 
 
 thoufands  are  loft  in  thefe  Delufions,  why 
 am  I  thus  gracioufly  diftinguiih'd  ?  Inftead  of 
 being  born  among  the  fliamefi^l  Vices  of  im- 
 pious Parents,  and  an  Heir  to  their  Curfes, 
 why  am  I  entitled  to  the  Bleffing  of  religious 
 Anceftors  ?  Why,  when  I  was  incapable  of 
 Choice,  was  I  devoted  to  the  God  that  keep^ 
 Covenant  and  Mercy  to  a  thoufand  Generations 
 of  them  that  fear  hirn  ? 
 
 Why,  when  I  knew  thee  not,  didft  thou 
 fuftain  me  ?  But  oh !  why,  when  I  knew 
 thee,  and  rebell'd  againft  thee,  why  didft  thou 
 fo  long  fuffer  my  Ingratitude  ?  Why  did  thy 
 watchful  Providence  perpetually  furroundme, 
 crofting  all  the  Methods  I  took  to  undo  my 
 felf  ?  Why  was  I  not  curft  with  my  own 
 Wiflies,  and  left  to  the  quiet  Poffeflion  of 
 thofe  Vanities  I  delighted  in;  thofeToys  which 
 I  fooliflily  prefer'd  to  all  the  Treafures  of  thy 
 Love  ?  Why  didft  thou  purfue  me  with  the 
 Offers  of  thy  Favour  when  I  fled  thee  with 
 fuch  Averfton ;  and  had  fled  thee  for  ever,  if 
 thou  hadft  not  compelled  me  to  return  ? 
 
 Why  did  thy  Spirit  ftrive  fo  long  with  an 
 obftinate  Heart,  which  refifted  all  its  Motions, 
 and  turned  thy  Patience  and  Long-Suffering 
 into  Provocation  and  Guilt?  Why  am  I  not 
 undone  by  thofe  pleafing  Snares  in  which  I 
 
 have 
 
VIII.         (?/* /^e  He  ART.  63 
 
 have  feen  fo  many  deluded  Wretches  perifli  ? 
 Like  them  I  defpife  the  unfearchable  Riches 
 of  thy  Grace  ;  with  them  I  had  been  content 
 to  fliare  the  forry  Portion  and  Pleafures  of  this 
 World,  if  thou  had'ft  let  me  alone,  and  I 
 fhould  never  have  enquired  after  thee  >  but  v^^hy 
 waft  thou  found  of  one  that  fought  thee  not  ? 
 O  why,  but  becaufe  thou  wilt  be  merciful  to 
 whom  thou  wilt  be  merciful  ? 
 
 Therefore  again  with  Aftonifliment 
 and  Delight  I  look  back  on  the  Methods  of 
 thy  Grace  ^  and  again  I  conlider  myfelf  loft 
 in  an  Abyfs  of  Sin  and  Mifery ;  when  there 
 was  no  Eye  to  pity  me,  no  Hand  but  thine 
 to  affift  me,  thou  madeft  it  then  the  Time 
 of  Love.  Never  was  Grace  more  free  and 
 furprizing  than  thine  is ;  never  was  there  a 
 more  obftinate  Heart  than  mine  \  and  never 
 fuch  unconquerable  Love  as  thine.  How  glo- 
 rioufly  has  it  triumphed  over  my  rebellious 
 Faculties  ?  How  freely  has  it  cancell'd  all  my 
 Guilt  ? 
 
 Could  I  have  made  the  leaft  Pretence  to 
 Merit,  or  have  challeng'd  any  thing  from  thee, 
 the  Benefit  had  been  lefs  exalted  3  had  there 
 been  any  Foundation  for  human  Pride,  my 
 corrupt  Pleart  would  foon  have  taken  the 
 Advantage,  and  have  robb'd  thee  of  thy  Ho- 
 nour, 
 
64         Devout  Exercises       VIIL 
 
 nour,  by  afcribing  the  glorious  Work  to  the 
 Strength  of  my  own  Reafon,  or  a  natural 
 Tendency  to  Virtue  \  but  here  my  Vanity  is 
 for  ever  filenc'd.  I  am  loft  in  the  boundlefs 
 Abyfs.  O  Height !  O  Depth !  O  Length 
 and  Breadth  immeafurable !  How  unfearch^ 
 able  are  thy  JVays^  Almighty  Love,  and  thy 
 Path^pajljindi?2g  out  ? 
 
 Let  me  here  begin  my  eternal  Song,  and 
 afcribe  Salvation  and  Honour,  Dominion  and 
 Majefty,  to  him  that  Jits  on  the  Throne,  and  to 
 the  hamb  for  ever,  who  has  lov'd  me,  and 
 ranfom'd  me  with  his  Blood  j  ranfom'd  me 
 from  a  voluntary  Bondage,  from  the  mo  ft 
 vile  and  hopelefs  Captivity,  a  Captivity  from 
 which  nothing  but  that  unvaluable  Purchafe 
 could  have  redeem'd  me. 
 
 "  Lififiite  Love  !  Ah7iighty  Grace  ? 
 "  Stand  in  amaze,  ye  7^ oiling  Skies : 
 
 Bring  hither  your  celeftial  Harps,  ye  bene- 
 ficent Beings,  who  amidft  the  Height  of 
 your  Happinefs  exprefs  a  kind  Regard  for 
 Man :  Teach  me  the  Language  of  Paradice, 
 the  Strains  of  Immortality.  But  oh  !  'tis  all 
 too  feeble,  the  Tongues  of  Seraphim  can- 
 not utter  what  I  owe  my  Redeemer  :  From 
 
 what 
 
IX.  of  t/>e  Heart.  65 
 
 what  Mifery,  my  adorable  Saviour,  haft  thou 
 refcued  me  ?  From  Error,  from  Sin,  from 
 Snares  and  Death,  from  infernal  Chains,  eter- 
 nal Ilorrour,  and  the  Blacknefs  of  Darknefs 
 for  ever. 
 
 Nor  here  my  glorious  Benefa(flor  ftay*d  ; 
 but  ftill  went  on  to  magnify  the  Riches  of  his 
 Grace,  and  entitled  me  to  an  endlefs  Inheri- 
 tance, and  an  immortal  Crov^n  ;  to  the  Frui- 
 tion of  God,  and  the  unutterable  Joys  that 
 flow  from  his  Prefence, 
 
 Myjlenous  Depths  of  boiindlefs  Love 
 
 My  Admiration  raife  : 
 O  Gody  thy  Name  exalted  Jia?2ds 
 
 Abo'i^e  my  highejl  Praije, 
 
 IX.     Evidence    of  Jtnvere   Love    to 
 
 God. 
 
 IF  I  love  thee  not,  my  bleffed  God,  I  know 
 not  what  I  love  :  If  I  am  uncertain  of 
 this,  I  am  uncertain  of  my  Exiftence :  If  I 
 love  thee  not,  what  is  the  Meaning  of  thefe 
 pathetick Expreffions,  My  God,  My  All! 
 
 D  thou 
 
66         Devout  Exercises         IX. 
 
 «. 
 
 thou  Spring  of  my  Life,  and  Fountain  of 
 my  Happinefs !  my  gf eat  Reward,  and  my 
 exceeding  Joy!  the  eternal  Objed:  of  my 
 Love,  and  fupreme  Felicity  of  my  Nature ! 
 Does  not  my  Heart  attend  my  Lips  in  all  this 
 Language  ?  How  can  this  be,  if  my  Soul 
 does  not  love  thee  ? 
 
 O  MY  God,  if  I  love  thee  not,  what  is 
 the  Meaning  of  this  conftant  Uneafinefs  at 
 thy  Abfence?    From  whence  proceeds  this 
 painful  Anxiety  of  Mind  about  thy  Love, 
 and  all  thefe  intenfe,  thefe  reftlefs  Defires  after 
 thee  ?  Why  are  all  the  Satisfaftions  of  Life 
 infipid  without  thee  ?  Without  my  God  what 
 are  Riches,  and  Honours,  and  Pleafuresto  me? 
 I  fhould  efteem  the  Poffeffion  of  the  World 
 but  a  Trifle,  or  rather  my  eternal  Damage, 
 if  it  muft  be  purchafed  with  the  Lofs  of  thy 
 Favour.     Thy  Benignity  is  better  than  Life, 
 and  the  Moments  in  which  I  enjoy  a  Senfe  of 
 thy  Love,  are  the  only  happy  Intervals  of  my 
 Life.     *Tis  then  I  live ;  'tis  then  I  am  truly 
 blefs'd:  'Tis  then  I  look  down  with  Contempt 
 on  the  little  Amufements  of  the  World,  and 
 pity  them  that  want  a  Tafte  for  thefe  exalted 
 Pleafures. 
 
 How  calm,  how  peaceful  in  thofe  Seafons 
 are  all   the  Regions    of  my  Soul!   I  have 
 
 enough. 
 
IX;  t)f  the  VL^A'^r.  67 
 
 enough,  I  afk  no  more.  Can  they  languifh 
 for  the  Stream,  who  drink  at  the  overflowing 
 Fountain  ?  I  have  all  the  World  and  more, 
 I  have  Heaven  itfelf  irl  thee :  In  thee  I  aril 
 completely  and  fecurely  blefs'd,  and  can  de- 
 fy the  Malice  of  Earth  and  Hell  to  (hake  the 
 Foundation  of  my  Happinefs,  while  thou 
 dofl  whifper  thy  Love  to  my  Soul.  O  bleffed 
 Stability  of  Heart !  O  fublime  Satisfadlion ! 
 Haft  thou  not  told  me  that  thou  art  mine  by 
 an  inviolable  Engagement,  when  my  Soul  de- 
 voted itfelf  fincerely  to  thee  ?  Does  not  thy 
 Word  affure  me,  that  the  Mountains  Jh all  de^ 
 fart,  and  the  Hills  be  removd;  but  thy 
 Kindnefs  jhall  not  depart,  itor  the  Covena7it  of 
 thy  Peace  be  broken  ? 
 
 Hast  not  thou  terminated  my  Wifhes,  O 
 Lord,  inthyfelf,  and  fix^d  my  wandring  De- 
 fires  ?  Is  it  for  Riches  or  Honour,  for  Length 
 of  Days,  or  Pleafure,  that  I  follow  thee  with 
 daily  Importunities  ?  Thou  knoweft  thefe  are 
 not  the  Subjedt  of  my  rcftlefs  Petitions  :  Do  I 
 ever  balance  thefe  Toys  with  thy  Favour  ? 
 Oh  no :  One  Smile  of  thine  obfcures  all  their 
 Glory.  When  thou  doft  blefs  my  retir'd  De- 
 votions with  thy  Prefence,  I  can  wink  all  cre- 
 ated Beauty  into  Blacknefs.  When  I  meet 
 thee   in  my  folitary  Contemplations,    with 
 
 D  2  what 
 
68  Devout  Exercises  IX. 
 
 what  Contempt  do  I  look  back  on  the  leflen- 
 ing  World. 
 
 How  dazling  is  thy  Beauty  !  how  divine  ! 
 How  dim  the  Liijhe  of  the  World  to  thine  I 
 
 How  dull    are  its  Entertainments  to  the 
 Pleafure  of  converfing  with  thee  ?  Oh  ftay, 
 in  thole  happy  Moments,  cries  my  fatisfy'd 
 Scul 
 
 iS/^v,  ;«v  Beloved^  with  tne  here  : 
 Stay  till  the  Morning-ftar  appear  5 
 Stay  till  the  dujky  Shadows  Jiy 
 Before  the  Days  illujlrious Eye. 
 
 Oh  !  ftay  till  the  gloomy  Night  of  Life  is 
 paft,  and  Eternity  dawn  on  my  Soul.  There's 
 nothing  in  this  barren  Place  to  entertain  me 
 when  thou  art  gone :  I  can  relifh  nothing 
 below  after  thefe  celeflial  Banquets. 
 
 If  I  love  thee  not,  what's  the  meaning  of 
 this  Impatience  to  be  with* thee?  My  Soul 
 lo72geth^  yea^  fai?tteth^  for  the  Courts  of  the 
 Lord',  when  fhall  I  come  and  appear  before 
 thee  ?  Oh  !  that  I  had  the  Wings  of  a  Dove  ; 
 for  then  would  I  fly  away^  and  he  at  rejt, 
 
 X.  Afu^ 
 
X.  of  the  He  A  V!.^.  69 
 
 X.    Ajjura7tces    of    Salvation    in 
 Christ  Jesus. 
 
 I  Have  put  my  Treafure,  my  immortal 
 Part,  into  thy  Hands,  Oh!  my  dear  Re- 
 deemer, and  jloall  the  Pi^ey  be  taken  from 
 the  Mighty  ?  Shall  a  Soul  cohfecrated  to  thee 
 fall  a  Sacrifice  to  Hell  ? 
 
 Blessed  God,  am  I  not  thine?  and  (hall 
 the  Temple  of  thy  Spirit  be  profaned,  and 
 the  Lips  that  have  fo  often  afcrib'd  Domi- 
 nion, and  Glory,  and  Majefty  to  thee,  be  de- 
 fil'd  with  infernal  Blafphemy,  and  the  Exe- 
 crations of  the  Damn'd  ?  Shall  the  Sparks  of 
 divine  Love  be  extinguifh'd,  and  immottal 
 Enmity  fucceed  ?  And  fhall  I,  who  was  once 
 blefs'd  with  thy  Favour,  become  the  Objed; 
 of  thy  Wrath  and  Indignation  ?  Shall  all  the 
 mighty  things  thou  haft  done  for  my  Soul 
 be  forgotten  ?  Shall  all  my  Vows,  and  thy 
 own  facred  Engagements  be  canceird?  'Tis  all 
 impoffible ;  for  thou  art  not  as  Man^  that  thoic 
 fiouldji  lie  y  nor  as  the  Son  of  Man^  that  thou 
 JJoouldJi  repent. 
 
 Thou  art  engag'd  by  thy  own  tremendous 
 Name  for  my  Security :  My  God,  and  my 
 Father's  God,  from  Generation  to  Generation 
 thou  haft  been  our  Dwelling-place.     I  was 
 
 D  3  devoted 
 
yo  Devout  Exercises  X 
 
 devoted  to  thee  in  Baptifm  by  the  iblemn 
 Vows  of  my  religious  Parents :  My  Infant 
 Hands  were  early  lifted  up  to  thee,  and  I  foon 
 learned  to  know  and  acknowledge  the  God 
 of  my  Fathers.  I  have  actually  fubfcrib'd 
 with  my  Hand  to  the  Lord,  and  am  thine  by 
 the  moft  voluntary  and  deliberate  Obligations. 
 The  Portion  of  Jacob  is  my  joyful  Choice, 
 nor  need  I  fear  lofmg  it  while  ahy  Word  is 
 eftablifli'd  as  the  Heavens. 
 
 T!he  Lord^  ivho  made  Heaven ^  Earth  a?2dSea^ 
 
 And  all  that  they  contain^ 
 IVilhtever  quit  hisjledfajl  Truths 
 
 Nor  make  his  Frojuife  vain. 
 
 Were  my  Dependance  on  myfelf,  I  were 
 undone :  The  firfl  Temptation  would  {hake 
 my  Refolutions ;  I  fliould  fell  the  ineftimable 
 Riches  of  thy  Love  for  a  Trifle,  and  fool 
 away  immortal  Pleafures  for  the  Joys  of  a 
 Moment  3  a  fpecious  Delulion  would  feduce 
 me  from  all  my  Hopes  of  a  glorious  Futurity 
 I  fhall  fall  a  Vidlim  to  my  own  Folly,  and 
 muft  inevitably  perifh,  if  thou  forfake  me  : 
 But  the  Strength  of  Ifrael  is  my  Hope,  the 
 Mighty  One  of  Jacob  my  Defence. 
 
 Thou  art  the  Rock  of  Ages;  the  fix'd 
 and  immutable  Divinity  is  my  high  Tower 
 
 and 
 
X.  of  t/!je  He  A  KT,  71 
 
 and  my  Refuge,  my  Redeemer,  and  Al- 
 mighty Saviour.  Thefe  were  the  blefs'd,  the 
 glorious  Titles  by  which  thou  didft  at  firft  af- 
 fure  my  doubtful  Soul :  Thefe  were  the  tranf- 
 porting  Names  I  knew  and  call'd  thee  by ;  and 
 thou  haft  anfwered  them  through  all  the 
 Changes  of  my  Life. 
 
 I  WAS  thy  early  Care;    thou   didft  fup- 
 port  my  helplefs  Infancy,  and  art  the  watch- 
 ful Guide  of  my  unfteady  Youth.     Which 
 Way  foever  I  turn,   I  meet  'thy  Mercy,  and 
 trace  thy  Providence ;  and  as  long  as  I  live  I 
 will  record  thy  Benefits,  and  depend  on  thy 
 Truth  ',  thofe  Benefits  which  have  conftantly 
 purfued  me,   and  that  Truth  which  has  never 
 deceived  me,  and  is  engag'd  never  to  abandon 
 me.     Tranfporting  AfTurance !  What  further 
 Security  can  I  afk  ?  What  Security  can  I  wiih 
 beyond  eternal  Veracity  ?  Tbe  Mount  aim  Jhall 
 depart^  and  the  Hills  be    remo^o^dy    but  thy 
 Ki7idnefs  jhall  not  depart ^  nor  the  Covenant  of 
 thy  Peace  be  broken ;  that  Covenant  which  has 
 been  feal'd  by  the  Blood  of  the  Son  of  God, 
 and  in  that  Holy  Sacrament  I  have  received 
 the  Pie  dges  of  thy  Love.     Thou  didft  gra- 
 cioufly  invite  me  into  that  Communion,  and 
 meet  me    there  With    the  moft  unmerited 
 Favour. 
 
 D  4  Fear 
 
72  .        Devout  Exercises  X. 
 
 Fear  not,  fay 'ft  thou,  poor  trembling 
 Soul,  for  I  am  thy  Redeemer  and  thy  mighty 
 Saviour,  the  Hope  oilfrael^  and  in  my  Name 
 fhall  all  the  Nations  of  the  Earth  beblefs'd; 
 /  am  gracious  and  merciful^  lojig-Juffering^ 
 and  abundant  in  Goodnefs  and  Tii^iith :  Thefe 
 are  the  Titles  by  which  I  have  reveaPd  my- 
 felf  to  Men>  I  came  the  expcded  MeJJiah^ 
 the  Star  of  Jacobs  and  the  Glory  of  the  Gen- 
 tiles.  I  came  from  the  Fulnefs  of  ineffable 
 Glory,  in  the  Form  of  Man,  to  redeem  the  Race 
 of  Adam,  I  am  willing  and  able  to  fave,  and 
 iz'hofoever  comes  to  me^  1  will  in  no  wife  cafi 
 away.  Fear  not,  I  had  kind  Deligns  towards 
 thee  from  Eternity ;  and  by  thefe  vilible  Sign 
 of  my  Body  and  Blood,  I  feal  my  Love  to 
 thy  Saul :  Take  here  the  Pledges  of  Heaven, 
 the  i\ffurances  of  everlafting  Happinefs. 
 
 'Tis  enough,  reply'd  my  tranfported  Soul ; 
 divide  the  World  as  thou  wilt,  let  others 
 unenvy'd  fhare  its  Glory  5  thy  Love  is  all  I 
 crave.  I  am  blefs'd  with  that  Affurance,  I 
 am  furrounded  with  the  Joys  of  Paradife ; 
 every  Place  is  a  Heaven,  while  my  Beloved 
 is  mine,  and  I  am  his. 
 
 V 
 
X.  of  the  Heart.  73 
 
 If  all  the  Monarchs^  whofe  Command  fupreme 
 Divides  the  wide  DominioJi  of  this  Ball^ 
 
 Should  offer  each  his  boafted  Diadem^ 
 1  would  not  quit  thy  Favour  for  them  all: 
 
 'Thefe  Trifles  with  Contempt  I  would  refign -, 
 
 The  World's  a  Toy^  while  I  can  call  thee  Mine. 
 
 Let  God  and  Angels  witnefs  for  me,  that 
 I  renounce  the  World,  and  chufe  thy  Love 
 as  my  Portion ;  witnefs  that  I  facrifice  my 
 darling  Sins  to  thee,  and  from  this  Moment 
 folemnly  devote  myfelf  to  thy  Service. 
 
 Thus  did  I  engage  myfelf  to  be  the  Lord's, 
 and  thus  didft  thou  gracioufly  condefcend  to 
 feal  the  Privileges  of  the  New  Covenant  to 
 my  Soul.  And  O  let  the  folemn  TranfacSion 
 never  be  forgotten;  let  it  be  writ  in  the 
 Volumes  of  Eternity ;  let  it  be  engraven  in 
 the  Books  of  unalterable  Deftiny :  There  let 
 the  facred  Articles  ftand  recorded,  and  be  had 
 in  everlafting  Remembrance. 
 
 XI.  Thou 
 
74 
 
 Devout  Exercises         XI. 
 
 XL  Tl:>ou  art  my  God. 
 
 OGod,  thou  art  my  God  3  thou  art  thy 
 own  Bleffcdnefs,  the  Centre  of  thy  own 
 DefireSj  and  the  boundlefs  Spring  of  thy  own 
 Happinefs.  Thou  art  immutable,  and  infi- 
 nitely perfe6t,  and  therein  confifls  thy  Blef- 
 fednefs  and  Glory  :  But  that  thou  art  my  Gody 
 'tis  from  thence  flows  all  my  Confolation : 
 This  glorious  Privilege  is  my  Dignity  and 
 Boaft,  T^bou  art  ?ny  God,  and  Iwillpraife  thee ; 
 my  Father  s  God,  and  I  will  exalt  thee  5  the 
 Lord  Iheth,  and  blejfcd  be  my  Rock,  and  let 
 the  God  of  my  Salvation  be  exalted.  Thy  Be- 
 nignity  is  better  than  Life,  therefore  my  Lips 
 jl:all  praife  thee, 
 
 I  H  A  V  E  all  things  in  poflcfling  thee ; 
 I  find  no  Want,  no  Emptinefs  within ; 
 my  Wiflies  are  anfwer'd,  and  all  my  Defires 
 appeas'd,  when  I  believe  my  Title  to  thy  Fa- 
 vour fecure.  Whatever  Tempcfts  arife,  what- 
 ever Darknefs  fun'ounds  me,  yet  thou  art  ;;/y 
 God',  I  cry,  and  the  Storms  are  appeas'd,  and 
 the  Darknefs  vaniilies.  I  find  my  Expecta- 
 tions from  the  World  difappointed,  my 
 Friends  falfe,  and  human  Dependance  vain  j 
 but  ftill  thou  art  7ny  God,  my  unfailing  Con> 
 fidence,  my  Rack,  my  everlafling  Inheritance. 
 
 Death 
 
XL  cf  the  Heart,  75 
 
 Death  and  Hell  level  their  Darts  agalnft  me  ; 
 but  with  a  heavenly  Tranquillity  I  cry,   Thou 
 art  my  God:  I  dwell  on  high^  my  Place  ofDe^ 
 fence  is  the  Munition  of  Rocks, 
 
 My  Hiding-place^  my  Refuge^  Tower ^ 
 And  Shield^  art  thoUy   O  Lord : 
 
 Ifrmly  anchor  all  my  Hopes 
 On  thy  unerring  Word. 
 
 While  thou  art  mine,  what  can  I  fear? 
 Can  Omnipotence  be  vanquiil:i'd :  Can  al- 
 mighty Strength  be  oppos'd  ?  When  it  can, 
 then,  and  not  till  then,  fhall  I  want  Security  ; 
 then,  and  not  till  then,  fhall  my  Confidence 
 be  fhaken,  and  my  Hopes  confounded. 
 
 Thou  art  my  God :  Let  me  again  repeat  the 
 glorious  Accents,  and  hear  the  pleafurable 
 Sounds.  Let  me  a  thoufand  and  a  thoufand 
 times  repeat  it  \  'tis  Rapture  all,  and  Harmo- 
 ny :  The  Harps  of  Angels  and  their  Tongues, 
 what  Notes  more  melodious  could  they  fing  or 
 play  ?  What  but  thefe  tranfporting  Words  give 
 the  Emphafis  to  all  their  Joys  ?  On  this  they 
 dwell /tis  their  eternal  Theme,  7y&o?<;  art  my  God, 
 Like  me  every  Seraph  boafts  the  glorious  Pro- 
 priety, and  owes  his  Happinefs  to  thofe  im- 
 portant Words :  In  them  unbounded  Joys  are 
 
 compre- 
 
^6         Devout  Exercises  XL 
 
 comprehended,  Paradicc  itlelf,  all  Heaven  is 
 here  defcrib'd ;  all  that  is  poiTible  to  be  ut- 
 ter'd  of  celeftialBleffednefs  is  here  contain'd. 
 
 My  God,   77iy  all-Jiifficient  Goody 
 
 My  Portion,  and  my  Choice ; 
 In  thee  my  vajl  Dejires  areJiWdy 
 
 And  all  Jiiy  Powers  rejoice. 
 
 My  God,  my  Triumph  and  my  Glory,  let 
 c)ther3  boaft  of  what  they  will,  and  pride 
 themfclves  in  human  Securities ;  let  them 
 place  their  Confidence  in  their  Wealth,  their 
 Honour  and  their  numerous  Friends :  I  re- 
 nounce all  earthly  Dependance,  and  glory 
 only  in  my  God. 
 
 From  him  alone  my  yoysJl:all  rife^ 
 And  run  eternal  Rounds, 
 
 Beyond  the  Limits  of  the  Skies 
 
 And  all  created  Bounds. 
 
 When  Death  fhall  remove  all  other  Sup- 
 ports, and  force  me  to  quit  my  Title  to  the  dear- 
 eft  Names  below,  in  7ny  God  I  iliall  have  an 
 unchangeable  Propriety :  That  Engagement 
 fliall  remain  firm  when  I  fiiall  lofe  my  Hold 
 of  all  other  Enjoyments ,;  when  all  human 
 
 Things 
 
XI.  of  the  Heart.  77 
 
 Things  vanifli  with  an  everlafting  Flight,  I 
 fliall  bid  them  a  joyful  adieu,  and  breathe  out 
 my  Soul  with  this  triumphant  Exclamation, 
 l^hou  art  my  God^  my  Inheritance,  my  eternal 
 Poffeffion :  Nor  Death,  nor  Hell  fl^iall  ever 
 leparate  me  from  thy  Love. 
 
 Thou  art  my  God,  Let  me  furvey  the  Ex- 
 tent of  my  Bleffednefs :  Let  me  take  a  Prof- 
 pe(5l  of  my  vaft  Pofleffion  :  Let  me  confider 
 its  Dimenfions  -,  O  Height !  O  Depth  !  O 
 Length' and  Breadth  immeafurable  ;  I  have  all 
 that  is  worth  poffeffing ;  thou  art  my  God. 
 
 But  what  have  i  uttered?  Is  Mortality 
 permitted  to  fpeakthefe  daring  Words?  Can 
 the  Race  of  Man  make  fuch  glorious  Preten- 
 fions  ?  Thou  thyfelf  canft  give  no  more : 
 Thou  that  art  thy  own  Happinefs,  and  the 
 Spring  of  Joy  to  all  thy  Creatures  y  with  thee 
 are  the  Fountains  of  Pleafure,  and  in  thy 
 Prefence  is  Fulnefs  of  Joy :  Immortal  Life 
 and  Happinefs  flow  from  thee,  and  they  are 
 neceflarily  bleft  who  are  furrounded  with  thy 
 Favour;  thou  art  their  God,  and  thou  art 
 my  God  to  everlafting  Ages. 
 
 Earth  flies  with  all  the  Charms  it  has  injiore^ 
 Its  Snares  and  gay  Tejnptations  are  no  more. 
 
 Creatures 
 
^8         Devout  Exercises        Xll* 
 
 Creatures  no  more  of  Entity  can  boajl,  [loJ{, 
 The  Streams^  theHillSy  andtoiJiPrmg  Groves  are 
 The  Sun^  the  Stars  ^  and  the  fair  Fields  of  Light 
 Withdraw^  and  now  are  va?iiJJj  dfrom  my  Sight-, 
 And  God  is  all  in  all. 
 
 XII.   Co7tfejffton  of  Sin^   with  Hope  of 
 
 Pardon. 
 
 BREAK,  break,  infenfible  Heart!  Let 
 Confufion  cover  me,  and  Darknefs^ 
 black  as  my  own  Guilt,  furround  me.  Lord^ 
 what  a  Monfter  am  I  become?  How  hateful 
 to  myfelf  for  offending  thee  ?  How  much 
 more  deteftable  to  thee,  to  thee  againft  whom 
 I  have  offended  ?  Why  have  I  provok'd  the 
 God  on  whom  my  Being  every  Moment  de- 
 pends ?  The  God,  who  out  of  nothing  ad- 
 vanced me  to  a  reafonable  and  immortal  Na- 
 ture, and  put  me  in  a  Capacity  of  being  hap- 
 py for  ever?  The  God  whofe  Goodnefs  has 
 run  parallel  with  my  Life  ;  who  has  preferv'd 
 me  in  a  thoufand  Dangers,  and  kept  me  even 
 from  the  Ruin  I  courted,  and  even  while  I 
 repin'd  at  the  Providence  that  faved  me. 
 
 How 
 
XII.  cf  the  ^^  avlt.  79 
 
 How  often  has  he  recover'd  me  from  eter- 
 nal Mifery,  and  brought  me  back  from  the 
 very  Borders  of  Hell,  when  there  was  but  a 
 dying  Groan,  but  one  faint  Sigh  between  me 
 and  everlafting  Perdition  ?  When  all  human 
 Help  fail'd,  and  my  mournful  Friends  were 
 taking  their  laft  Farewels  ;  when  every  fmi- 
 ling  Hope  forfook  me,  and  the  Horrors  of 
 Death  furrounded  me,  to  God  I  cry'd  from  the 
 Depths  of  Mifery  and  Defpair  ;  I  cry'd,  and 
 he  was  intreated,  and  refcued  my  Life  from 
 Deftrud:ion :  He  brought  me  out  of  the  miry 
 Clayy  andfet  my  Feet  upon  a  RocL  A  thou- 
 land  Inftances  of  thy  Goodnefs  could  I  re- 
 count, and  all  to  my  own  Confufion. 
 
 Could  I  confider  thee  as  my  Enemy,  I 
 might  forgive  myfelf;  but  when  I  confider 
 thee  as  my  beft  Friend,  my  tender  Father, 
 the  Suftainer  of  my  Life,  and  Author  of  my 
 Happinefs,  good  God!  what  a  monftrous 
 thing  do  I  appear,  who  have  finned  againft 
 thee  ?  Could  I  charge  thee  with  Severity,  or 
 call  thy  Laws  rigorous  and  unjuft,  I  had  fome 
 Excufe  ',  but  I  am  filenc'd  there  by  the  Con- 
 vidlion  of  my  own  Reafon,  which  affents  to  all 
 thy  Precepts  as  juft  and  holy.  But  to  height- 
 en my  Guilt,  I  have  violated  the  facred  Rules 
 
 I  ap- 
 
8o         Devout  Exercises        XIL 
 
 I  approve :  I  have  provoked  the  Jaftice  I  fear, 
 and  offended  the  Purity  I  adore. 
 
 Ye  Tftill  there  are  higher  Aggravations  of  my 
 Iniquity  ;  and  w^hat  gives  me  the  utmoftCon- 
 fuiionisj  that  I  have  finned  againft  unbounded 
 Love  and  Goodnefs  :  Horrid  Ingratitude  ! 
 here  Hes  the  Emphafis  of  my  Folly  and  Mi- 
 fery  ;  the  Senfe  of  this  torments  me,  can  I 
 not  fay,  as  much  as  the  Dread  of  Hell,  or  the 
 Fears  of  lofing  Heaven  ?  Thy  Love  and  ten- 
 der Compaffion,  the  late  pleaiing  Subjedlsof 
 my  Thoughts,  are  on  this  account  become  my 
 Terror.  The  Titles  of  an  Enemy  and  a 
 Judge  fcarce  found  more  painful  to  my  Ears, 
 than  thofe  of  a  Friend  and  a  Benefactor, 
 which  fo  fhamefully  enhance  my  Guilt  : 
 Thofe  facred  Names  confound  and  terrify  my 
 Soul,  becaufe  they  furnifli  my  Confcience 
 with  the  moft  exquifite  Reproaches:  The 
 Thoughts  of  fuch  Goodnefs  abufed,  and  fuch 
 Clemency  affronted,  feem  to  me  almoftas  in- 
 fupportable,  as  thofe  of  thy  Wrath  and  Severity. 
 
 O  w H I T  H  E  R  lliall  I  turn*:  I  dare  not  look 
 upward ;  the  Sun  and  Stars  upbraid  me  there  : 
 If  I  look  downward,  the  Fields  and  Foun- 
 tains take  their  Creator's  Part,  and  Heaven 
 and  Earth  confpire  to  aggravate  my  Sins : 
 Thofe  common  Bleflings  tell  me  how  much  I 
 
 am 
 
XII.  of  the  Heart.  Si 
 
 am  indebted  to  thy  Bounty :  But,  Lord, 
 when  I  recal  thy  particular  Favours,  I  am 
 utterly  confounded  3  what  numerous  In- 
 ftances  could  I  recount  ?  Nor  has  my  Rebel- 
 lion yet  flmt  up  the  Fountain  of  thy  Grace  ; 
 for  yet  I  breathe,  and  yet  I  live,  and  live  to 
 implore  a  Pardon  :  Heaven  is  ftill  open,  and 
 the  Throne  of  God  acceiiible.  But  oh !  with 
 what  Confidence  can  I  approach  it  ?  What 
 Motives  can  I  urge,  but  fuch  as  carry  my  own 
 Condemnation  in  them  ? 
 
 Shall  I  urge  thy  former  Pity  and  Indul- 
 gence? This  were  to  plead  againft  myfelf: 
 And  yet  thy  Clemency,  that  Clemency  which 
 I  have  abus'd,  is  the  beft  Argument  I  can 
 bring ;  thy  Grace  and  Clemency  as  revealed 
 in  Jesus,  the  Son  of  thy  Love,  the  bleffed 
 Reconciler  of  God  and  Man. 
 
 O  WHITHER  has  my  Folly  reduced  me  ? 
 with  what  Words  fliall  I  chufe  to  addrefs  thee  ? 
 Pardo?i  my  Liiquityy  O  Lord^  fo?"  it  is  great : 
 Surprizing  Argument !  yet  this  will  magnify 
 thy  Goodnefs,  and  yield  me  an  eternal  Theme 
 to  praife  thee  :  'twill  add  an  Emphafis  to  all 
 my  grateful  Songs,  and  tune  my  Harp  to 
 everlafting  Harmony.  The  Ranfom'd  of  the 
 Lord  fhall  join  with  me,  while  this  glorious 
 Inftance  of  thy  Grace  excites  their  Wonder, 
 
 E  and 
 
82         Devout  Exercises        XIL 
 
 and  my  unbounded  Gratitude :  Thus  fliall 
 thy  Glory  be  exalted. 
 
 O  Lord  God,  permit  a  poor  worthlefs> 
 Creature  to  plead  a  little  with  thee  ;  what 
 Honour  will  my  Deftru6tion  bring  thee  ? 
 what  Profit,  what  Triumph  to  the  Almighty 
 will  my  Perdition  be  ?  Mercy  is  thy  brighteft 
 Attribute  -,  this  gives  thee  all  thy  Lovelinefs, 
 and  completes  thy  Beauty,  By  Names  of 
 Kindnefs  and  Indulgence  thou  haft  chofen 
 to  reveal  thyfelf  to  Men :  By  Titles  of  the 
 moft  tender  Import  thou  haft  made  thyfelf 
 known  to  my  Soul ;  Titles  which  thou  doft 
 not  yet  difdain,  but  art  ftill  compaffionate^ 
 and  ready  to  pardon. 
 
 But  that  thou  haft  or  wilt  forgive  me> 
 O  my  God,  aggravates  my  Guilt.  And  wilt 
 thou  indeed  forgive  me  ?  wilt  thou  remit 
 the  gloomy  Score,  and  reftore  the  Privilege 
 i  have  forfeited  ?  Wondrous  Love !  aftonifli-- 
 ing  Benignity !  Let  m'e  never  live  to  repeat 
 my  Ingratitude  ;  let  me  never  live  to  break 
 my  penitent  Vows ;  let  me  die  e're  that  un- 
 happy Moment  arrive. 
 
 xiii.  ns 
 
XIII.        ^/>5^  Heart.  S^ 
 
 XIII.    T6e  Abfence  of  G  o^Q  on 
 Earth. 
 
 WHAT  is  Hell?  what  is  Damnation; 
 but  an  Exclufion  from  thy  Prefence? 
 'Tis  the  Want  of  that  which  gives  the  Re- 
 gions of  Darknefs  all  their  Horror :  What 
 is  Heaven?  What  are  the  Satisfactions  of 
 Angels,  but  the  Views  of  thy  Glory  ?  What 
 but  thy  Smiles  and  Complacence  are  the 
 Springs  of  their  immortal  Tranfports  ? 
 
 Without  the  Light  of  thy  Countenance, 
 what  Privilege  is  my  Being  ?  what  can  ft 
 thou  thyfelf  give  me  to  countervail  the  infi- 
 nite Lofs  ?  Could  the  Riches,  the  empty  Glo- 
 ries and  infipid  Pleafures  of  the  World,  re- 
 compenfe  me  for  it  ?  Ah  !  no.  Not  all  the 
 Variety  of  the  Creation  could  fatisfy  me  while 
 I  am  deprived  of  thee :  Let  the  Ambitious, 
 the  Licentious  and  Covetous,  fhare  thefe 
 Trifles  among  themfelves  j  they  are  no  A- 
 mufements  for  my  dejedled  Thoughts. 
 
 There  was  a  Time  (but  ah!  that  happy 
 
 Time  is  pafs'd,  thofe  blifsful  Minutes  gone) 
 
 when  with  a  modeft  Aflfurance  I  could  call 
 
 thee  ?ny  Father^  my  almighty  Friend,  my  De^ 
 
 fence,  my  Hope,  and  ?ny  exceeding  great  Re^ 
 
 E  2  luard: 
 
84         Devout  ExERcis2s       XIEL 
 
 ward:  But  thofe  glorious  Advantages  are 
 loft,  thofe  ravifliing  Profpedts  withdrawn, 
 and  to  my  trembling  Soul  thou  doft  no  more 
 appear  but  as  a  confuming  Fire,  an  inacceffi- 
 ble  Majefty,  my  fevere  Judge,  and  my  omni- 
 potent Adverfiry ;  and  who  ftiall  deliver  me 
 out  of  thy  Hands?  Where  iliall  I  find  a 
 Slielkr  from  thy  Wrath  ?  What  Shades  can 
 cover  me  from  thy  all-feeing  Eye  ?. 
 
 Ojie  Glance  from  thee^  one  piercing  Ray 
 
 Would  kiiidle  Darknefs  into  Day : 
 
 The  Veil  of  Night  is  no  Difgiiife^ 
 
 No  Screen  from  thy  alUfe  arching  Eyes : 
 
 Thro  Midnight-Shades  thoufndyi  thy  Wayy 
 
 As  in  the  blazing  Noon  of  Day, 
 
 But  will  the  Lord  caf  off  for  ever?  Will  he  be 
 favourable  no  more  ?  Has  God  indeed  forgotten 
 to  be  gracious  ?  Will  he  fhut  out  my  Prayer 
 for  ever,  and  muft  I  never  behold  my  Maker  ? 
 Muft  I  never  meet  thofe  Smiles  that  fill  the 
 heavenly  Inhabitants  with  unutterable  Joys  ? 
 thofe  Smiles  which  enlighten  the  celeftiaJ 
 Region,  and  make  everlafting  Day  above  ?• 
 In  vain  then  have  thefe  wretched  Eyes  beheld 
 the  Light,  in  vain  am  I  endued  with  reafon- 
 
 able 
 
XIII.        vf  the  Hr.  A  RT.  h^ 
 
 jtble  Faculties  and  immortal  Principles :  Alas! 
 what  will  they  prove  but  everlaflingCurfes, 
 if  I  mull  never  fee  the  Face  of  God  ? 
 
 Ji  it  a  Dream?  or  do  I  hear 
 7he  Voice  that  jo  delights  f?iy  Ear  ? 
 Lo,  he  o'er  Hills  his  Step  extends^ 
 And  bounding  from  the  Cliffs  defcends : 
 Now  like  a  Roe  outjlrips  the  Wind^ 
 And  leaves  the  panting  Hart  behind, 
 
 I  have  waited  for  thee  as  they  that  wait  for 
 the  Mornings  and  thy  Returns  are  more  wel- 
 come than  the  fpringing  Day-light  after  the 
 Horrors  of  a  melancholy  Night ;  more  wel- 
 come than  Eafe  to  the  Sick,  than  Water  to 
 the  Thirfly,  or  Reft  to  the  weary  Traveller. 
 How  undone  was  I  without  thee  ?  In  vain, 
 while  thou  wertabfent,  the  World  hath  try'd 
 to  entertain  me :  All  it  could  offer  was  like 
 Jefts  to  dying  Men,  or  like  Recreations  to  the 
 DamnU  On  thy  Favour  alone  my  Tran- 
 quillity depends ;  deprived  of  that,  I  ihould 
 figh  for  Happinefs  in  the  midft  of  a  Paradife : 
 ?7n'  Loving'kindnefs  is  better  than  Life^  and 
 if  a  Tafte  of  thy  Love  be  thus  tranfporting, 
 what  Extafies  (hall  I  know  when  I  drink  my 
 
 E  3  Fill 
 
86         Devout  Exercises       XIII. 
 
 Fill  of  the  Streams  of  Blifs  that  flow  from  thy 
 Right-hand  for  ever  ?    But  when — 
 
 When  Jhall  this  happy  Day  ofVifion  be  ? 
 When  I  Jhall  make  a  near  Approach  to[ 
 
 thee  ? 
 Be  lojl  in  Love  a72d  wrapt  in  Extafy  ? 
 Oh  I  when  Jhall  I  behold  thee  all  Jerene^ 
 Without  this  envious  cloudy  Veil  between  ? 
 'Tis  true  5  the  f acred  Elements  *  impart 
 T'hy  virtual  Prejence  to  my  faithful  Hearty 
 But  to  7ny  Sejife  fill  unreveal  d  thou  art, 
 This^  tho  a  great ^  is  an  imperfeB  Blifs, 
 To  Jee  a  Shadow  for  the  God  I  wiJJj : 
 My  Soul  a  more  exalted  Pitch  would  fy. 
 And  view  thee  in  the  Heights  of  Majejiy, 
 
 §^:AMi^Mf^iii^M^^^rkk±±^±§i^M^'k 
 
 XIV.  Bamjhm.ent  from  God  for  ever^ 
 
 -piEpartfrom  me,  ye  Curfed:  Oh !  let  mc 
 "^  never  hear  thy  Voice  pronounce  thofe 
 .dreadful  Words.  With  what  Terrors  would 
 fhat  Sentence  pierce  my  Heart,  while  it  thun- 
 
 '*   At  the  hcrcCs-Supper, 
 
 ders 
 
XIV.      *   of  the  Heart.  87 
 
 •ders  in  my  Ears  ?  Oh  !  rather  fpeak  me  into 
 my  primitive  Nothing,  and  with  one  potent 
 Word  finifh  my  Exiftence.  To  be  feparated 
 from  thee,  and  curft  with  Immortality,  who 
 can  fuftain  the  intolerable  Doom  ? 
 
 O  dreadful  State  of  black  Defpatr^ 
 
 To  fee  my  God  remove y 
 And  fix  my  doleful  Station  where 
 
 I  mufl  72ot  tafie  his  Love^ 
 
 nor  view  the  Light  of  thy  Countenance  for 
 ever.  Unutterable  Woe  !  there  is  no  Hell  be- 
 yond it.  Separation  from  God  is  the  Depth 
 of  Mifery.  Blacknefs  of  Darknefs  and  eter- 
 nal Night  muft  necefTarily  involve  a  Soul  ex- 
 cluded from  thy  Prefence.  What  Life,  what 
 Joy,  what  Hope  is  to  be  found  where  thou 
 art  not  ?  I  want  Words  to  paint  my  Thoughts 
 of  that  difmal  State.  Oh  !  let  me  never  be  re- 
 ferv'd  £or  the  dreadful  Experience  !  rather  let 
 loofe  thy  Wrath,  and  in  a  Moment  reduce 
 me  into  nothing. 
 
 Depart  from  thee!  Oh!  whither  fliould  I 
 go  from  thee  ?  Into  utter  Darknefs  ?  That 
 makes  no  Addition  at  all  to  the  Wretch's  Mi- 
 fery that's  banifli'd  from  thy  Face.  After  that 
 fearful  Doom,  I  fliould  without  Conftraint 
 
 E  4  feek 
 
88  Devout  Exercises       XIV. 
 
 feek  out  Shades  as  dark  as  Hell,  being  moft 
 agreeable  to  my  own  Defpair,  and  in  the 
 Horrors  of  eternal  Night  bewail  the  infinite 
 Lofs. 
 
 The  "Remembrance  of  that  loft  Happinefs 
 would  render  celeftial  Day  infufferable.  The 
 Light  of  Paradife  could  not  chear  me  with- 
 out thy  Favour  :  The  Songs  of  Angels  would 
 but  heighten  my  Anguilh,  and  torment  me 
 with  a  Scene  of  Blifs  which  I  muft  never  tafte. 
 The  Sight  of  thy  Favourites,  and  the  Glories 
 of  thy  Court,  would  but  excite  my  Envy, 
 and  fill  me  with  Madnefs,  while  I  confider'd 
 myfelf  the  Objedt  of  thine  eternal  Indigna- 
 tion :  Nor  could  all  the  Harmony  of  Heaven 
 allay  the  Horror  of  that  Refledlion. 
 
 The  Groans  of  the  Damn'd,  and  the 
 Darknefs  of  the  infernal  Caverns,  would  bet- 
 ter fuit  my  Grief.  There  to  the  Cries  of  tor- 
 mented Ghofts,  and  to  the  Sound  of  eternal 
 Tempefts,  I  might  join  my  wild  Complaints, 
 and  lament  the  Lofs  of  infinite  Blifs,  and 
 curfe  my  own  Folly :  But  all  the  Plagues  be- 
 low, if  I  might  fpeak  my  prefent  Thoughts, 
 {hould  not  extort  a  blafphemous  Refledlion 
 on  the  divine  Attributes ;  for  I  know  I  dc- 
 ferve  eternal  Mifery,  and  even  in  Hell  I  think 
 1  lliould  confcfs  thy  Juftice.  Thy  long-expc- 
 
 ricnccd 
 
XIV.  of  the  Heart*  89 
 
 rienced  Clemency,  I  am  fure,  ought  to  filence 
 my  Reproaches  for  ever,  and  to  all  Eternity 
 leave  thee  unblemifh'd  v^ith  the  Imputation 
 of  Cruelty. 
 
 But  oh !  what  Agonies  would  the  Re- 
 membrance of  thy  former  Favour  excite  ? 
 What  exquifite  Remorfe  would  it  give  m.e 
 to  recal  thofe  happy  Moments  when  thou 
 didft  blefs  my  retired  Devotions  with  thy 
 Prefence  ?  After  I  have  relifli'd  thofe  divine 
 Entertainments,  how  bitter  would  the  Dregs 
 of  thy  Wrath  be  ?  Whither  would  thy 
 Frowns  fink  me,  after  I  have  enjoy 'd  the 
 Light  of  thy  Countenance  ? 
 
 If  I  muft  lofe  thy  Favour^  oh!  let  me 
 forget  what  that  Word  imports,  and  blot 
 for  ever  from  my  Remembrance  the  Joys 
 that  a  Senfe  of  thy  Love  has  excited  :  Let  no 
 Traces  of  thofe  facred  Tranfports  be  left  on 
 my  Soul. 
 
 But  muft  I  depart  from  thee  into  ever- 
 lafting  Fire  ?  Double  and  dreadful  Curfe ! 
 And  yet  unquenchable  Flames,  and  infernal 
 Chains  (if  I  can  judge  in  this  Life  of  fuch 
 awful  Futurities )  would  be  lefs  terrible  than 
 the  Senfe  of  thofe  loft  Joys.  That  Lofs  would 
 endure  no  Refledion  ;  the  Review  would  be 
 for  ever  infufferable ;  the  Ages  of  Eternity 
 
 could 
 
go  Devout  Exercises  XV, 
 could  not  diminifh  the  exquifite  Regret ;  ftill 
 it  would  excite  new  and  unutterable  Anguifh, 
 and  rack  me  with  infinite  Defpair. 
 
 Blessed  God,  pity  tlie  Soul  whofe  ex- 
 treameft  Horror  is  the  Doom  of  an  eternal 
 Departure  from  thee.  Draw  my  Spirit  into 
 the  holieft  and  the  neareft  Union  with  thyfelf 
 that  is  poffible,  while  it  dwells  in  this  Flefh ; 
 and  let  me  here  commence  that  delightful 
 Refidence  and  Converfe  with  God,  which  nor 
 Death,  nor  Judgment  thall  ever  deftroy,  nor 
 fhall  a  long  Eternity  ever  put  a  Period  to  it. 
 
 XV.  Tloe  Glory  of  God  in  his  JVorks 
 of  Creation^  Providence  and  Re- 
 demption. 
 
 MY  Being  immediately  flows  from  thee, 
 and  fhould  I  not  praife  my  omnipo- 
 tent Maker  ?  I  receiv'd  the  laft  Breath  I  drew 
 from  thee,  thou  doft  fuftain  my  Life  this 
 very  Moment,  and  the  next  depends  entirely 
 on  thy  Pleafure.  'Tis  the  Dignity  of  my 
 Nature  to  know,  and  my  Happinefs  to  praife 
 and  adore  my  great  Original.  But  oh!  thou 
 Supreme  of  all  Things,  how  art  thou  to  be 
 
 extoU'd 
 
XV.  (p/* //6^  He  ART.  91 
 
 cxtoird  by  mortal  Man  ?  I  fay  to  Corruption^ 
 ^bou  art  my  Father^  and  to  the  Worms^  Te  are 
 my  Brethren ;  my  Days  are  as  a  Hand's 
 Breadth^  and  my  Life  is  nothing  before  thee ; 
 but  thou  art  the  fame  ^  and  thy  Tears  Jieverfail : 
 From  everlajiing  to  everlajiing  thou  art  Gody 
 the  incomprehenlible,  the  immutable  Divi- 
 nity. The  Language  of  Paradife,  and  the 
 Strains  of  celeftial  Eloquence,  fall  {hort  of  thy 
 Perfedlions ;  the  Firft-born  Sons  of  Light 
 lofe  themfelves  in  blifsful  Aftoniihment  in 
 Search  of  thy  Excellencies ;  even  they  with 
 filent  Extafy  adore  thee,  while  thou  art  veiFd 
 with  ineffable  Splendor. 
 
 The  bright,  the  hlefsd  Divinity  is  known 
 And  comprehended  by  himfelf  aIo?2e. 
 
 Who  can  conceive  the  Extent  of  that  Power, 
 which  out  of  Nothing  brought  Materials 
 for  a  riling  World,  and  from  a  gloomy  Chaos 
 bid  the  harmonious  Univerfe  appear  ? 
 
 Confufion  heard  the  Voice ^  and  wild  Uproar 
 Stood  ruYd  -,  flood  vafl  Infinity  confind. 
 
 A  T  thy  Word  the  Pillars  of  the  Sky  were 
 iTam'd,  and  its  beauteous  Arches  raised :  Thy 
 
 Breath 
 
92         Devout  Exercises        XV, 
 
 Breath  kindled  the  Stars,  adorned  the  Moon 
 with   Silver   Rays,    and   gave    the   Sun   its 
 flaming  Splendor.    Thou  didft  prepare  for 
 the  Waters  their  capacious  Bed,  and  by  thy 
 Pov^er  let  Bounds  to  the  raging  Billows :  By 
 thee  the  Vallies  were  clothed  in  their  flowry 
 Pride,   and   the   Mountains   crown'd    with 
 Groves.  In  all  the  wonderful  Effed:s  of  Na- 
 ture, we  adore  and  confefs  thy  Power;  thou 
 uttereil  thy  Voice  in  Thunder,  and  doft  fcatter 
 thy  Lightnings  abroad ;   thou  rideft  on  the 
 Wings  of  the  Wind,  the  Mountains  fmoke, 
 and  theForefts  tremble  at  thy  Approach  ;  the 
 Summer  and  Winter,  the  (hady  Night, 'and 
 the  bright  Revolutions  of  the  Day,  are  thine. 
 
 Thefe  are  thy  glorious  Works,  Pare?it  of  Good, 
 Almighty  ;  thine  this  iiniverfal  Frame  : 
 Thus  wondrous  they,  thyfelfhow  wondrous  then'? 
 
 But  O!  what  muft  thy  eflbntial  Majefty 
 and  Beauty  be,  if  thou  art  thus  illuftrious  in 
 thy  Works  ?  if  the  Difcoveries  of  thy  Power 
 and  Wifdom  are  thus  delightful,  how  tranf- 
 porting  are  the  Manifeftations  of  thy  Good- 
 nefs  ?  From  thee  every  thing  that  lives  receives 
 its  Breath  ;  and  by  thee  are  all  upheld  in  Life. 
 Thy  Providence  reaches  the  Icafl  Infed,  for 
 
 thou 
 
XV.  <?/" //6^  He  A  RT.  93 
 
 thou  art  good,  and  thy  Care  extends  to  all 
 thy  Works.  Thou  feedeft  the  Ravens,  and 
 doft  provide  the  young  Lions  their  Prey: 
 Thou  fcattereft  thy  Bleflings  w^ith  a  Hberal 
 Hand  on  the  whole  Creation ;  Man,  un- 
 grateful Man,  largely  partakes  thy  Bounty. 
 Thou  caufeft  thy  Rain  to  defcend,  and  makeft 
 thy  Sun  to  fliine  on  the  Evil  and  Unthank- 
 ful ;  for  thou  art  good ^  and  thy  Mercy  ejidiireth 
 for  ever. 
 
 A  s  the  Creator  and  Preferver  of  Men,  thou 
 art  glorioufly  manifeft  ;  but  oh  !  how  much 
 more  glorioufly  art  thou  reveal'd,  as  recon- 
 ciling ungrateful  Enemies  to  thyfelf  by  the 
 Blood  of  thy  eternal  Son  ?  Here  thy  Benefi- 
 cence difplays  its  brighteft  Splendor :  Here 
 thou  doft  fully  difcover  thy  moft  magnificent 
 Titles,    THE    Lord,    the    Lord    God, 
 
 MERCIFUL  AND  GRACIOUS,  LONG-SUF- 
 FERING, AND   ABUNDANT   IN   GOODNESS: 
 
 How  iinfearchable  are  thy  WaySy  and  thy 
 Paths  paji  finding  out  ?  Infinite  Depths  of 
 Love,  never  to  be  exprefs'd  by  human  Lan- 
 guage !  and  yet  fhould  Man  be  filent,  the 
 Stones  themfelves  would  fpeak,  and  the  mute 
 Creation  find  a  Voice  to  upbraid  his  ungrate- 
 ful Folly, 
 
 XVL  Longr 
 
94        Devout  Exercises       XVL 
 
 XVI.    Longing  for  the   Coming    of 
 Christ. 
 
 COME,  Lord  Jesus,  come  quickly- 
 oh  come,  left  my  Expeftations  faint' 
 left  I  grow  weary,  and  murmur  at  thy  long 
 Delay.    I  an^  tired  with  thefe  Vanities,  and 
 the  World  grows  every  Day  more  un-enter- 
 taining  and  infipid ;  it  has  now  loft  its  Charms, 
 and  finds  my  Heart  infenfible  to  all  its  Al- 
 lurements.   With  Coldnefs  and  Contempt  I 
 view  thefe  tranfitory  Glories,  infpir'd  with 
 nobler  Profpefts  and  vafter  Expeftation  by 
 Faith.    I  fee  the  promised  Land,  and  every 
 Day  brings  me  nearer  the  Poifeffion  of  my 
 heavenly  Inheritance.    Then  fhall  I  fee  God 
 and  live,  and  Face  to  Face  behold  my  tri- 
 umphant  Redeemer, 
 
 And  in  his  Favour  find  immortal  Light, 
 Te  Hours  and  Day  s, cut fiort  your  tedious  Flighty 
 Te  Mo72ths  aiid  Years  (if  fiich  allotted  be 
 In  this  detefied  barren  World  for  ?ne) 
 With  hajly  Revolution  roll  along, 
 I  lajiguijh  with  Impatience  to  be  gone, 
 
 I  HAVE 
 
XVI.        of  the  Hear  t.  95 
 
 I  HAVE  nothing  here  to  linger  for;  my 
 Hopes,  my  Reft,  my  Treafure,  and  my  Joys 
 ^re  all  above  :  My  Soul  faints  for  the  Courts 
 of  the  Lord  in  a  dry  and  thirfty  Land,  where 
 there  is  no  Refrefliment. 
 
 How  long  fiall  I  dwell  in  Meflieck,  and 
 fojourn  in  the  Terits  of  Kedar  ?  When  will  the 
 wearifom  Journey  of  Life  be  finifh'd  ?  when 
 fhall  I  reach  my  everlafting  Home,  and  ar- 
 rive at  my  celeftial  Country  ?  My  Heart,  my 
 Wiflies  are  already  there  :  I  have  no  Engage- 
 ments to  delay  my  Farewel,  nothing  to  de- 
 tain me  here  j  but  wander  an  unacquainted 
 Pilgrim,  a  Stranger  and  Defolate,  far  from 
 my  native  Regions. 
 
 M  Y  Friends  are  gone  before,  and  are  now 
 triumphing  in  the  Skies,  fecure  of  the  Con- 
 queft,   poffeft  of  the   Rewards  of  Vidtory. 
 They  furvey  the  Field  of  Battle,  and  look 
 back  with  Pleafure  on  the  diftant  Danger : 
 Death  and  Hell   for  ever  vanquifh'd,  leave 
 them  in  the  Poffeffion  of  endlefs  Tranquil- 
 lity and  Joy  5  while  I,  befet  with  a  thoufand 
 Snares,  and  tired  with  continual  Toil,  un- 
 fteadily  maintain  the  Field,  till  adlive  Faith 
 fteps  in,    affures  me  of  the  Conqueft,  and 
 ihews  me  the  immortal  Crown.    'Tis  Faith 
 tells  me  that  Light  is  /own  for  the  RighteouSy 
 
 and 
 
g6         Devout  Exercises     XVIL 
 
 and  Gladnefi  for  the  Upjigbt  in  Heart :  It 
 afllires  me  that  my  Redeemer  lives,  and  that 
 he  Jloall  Jiand  the  lafi  Day  on  the  Earth  -,  ayid 
 thd  after  my  Skin  Worms  dejlroy  this  Body^ 
 yet  in  my  Flejh  Jloall  I  fee  God-,  whojn  1  Jhall 
 fee  for  myfelf  and  not  another  \  and  thefe  Eyes 
 fiallbeholdy  tho  my  Reifjs  be  cojifumed  within . 
 me.  Amen,  even  fo  come  Lord  fefus.  This 
 muft  be  the  Language  of  my  Soul  till  thou 
 doft  appear,  and  thefe  my  impatient  Breath- 
 ings after  thee.  Till  I  fee  thy  Salvation,  my 
 Heart  and  my  Fleih  will  pine  for  the  living 
 God. 
 
 Grant  me,  O  Lord,  to  fulfil  as  a  Hire^ 
 lifig  my  Day  -,  fhorten  the  Space,  and  let  it  be 
 full  of  Aftion.  Tis  of  fmall  Importance  hov/ 
 few  there  are  of  thefe  little  Circles  of  Days 
 and  Hours,  fo  they  are  but  well  fill'd  up 
 with  Devotion,  and  with  all  proper  Duty. 
 
 XVIL  Seeking  after  an  abfent  God. 
 
 OH !  let  not  the  Lord  be  angry,  and  I 
 who  am  but  Duft  will  fpeak:  Why 
 doft  thou  withdraw  thyfelf,  and  fuffer  me  to 
 purfue  thee  in  vain  ?  If  I  am  furrounded  with 
 
 thy 
 
X VIL       of  the  Hear  t.  97 
 
 thy  Immenfity,  why  am  I  thus  infenfible  of 
 thee  ?  Why  do  I  not  find  thee  if  thou  art  e- 
 very  where  prefent  ?  I  fearch  thee  in  the 
 Temple,  where  thou  haft  often  met  me ;  there 
 I  have  feen  the  Traces  of  thy  Majefty  and 
 Beauty;  but  thofe  facred  Vifions  blefs  my 
 Sight  no  more*  I  fearch  thee  in  my  fecret 
 Retirements,  where  I  have  called  upon  thy 
 Name,  and  have  often  heard  the  Whif- 
 pers  of  thy  Voice  ;  that  celeftial  Converfation 
 hath  often  reach'd  and  raptured  my  Soul, 
 but  I  am  folac'd  no  more  with  thofe  divine 
 Condefcenfions  5  I  liften,  but  I  hear  thofe 
 gentle  Sounds  no  more  >  I  pine  and  languifh, 
 but  thou  flieft  me;  ftill  I  wither  in  thy 
 Abfence,  as  a  drooping  Plant  for  the  reviving 
 Sun. 
 
 O  w  H  E  N  wilt  thou  fcatter  this  melan- 
 choUy  Darknefs  ?  when  (hall  the  Shadows  flee 
 before  thee  ?  when  fhall  the  chearful  Glory  of 
 thy  Grace  dawn  upon  my  Mind  at  thy  Ap- 
 proach ?  I  fhall  revive  at  thy  Light ;  my 
 vital  Spirits  will  confefs  thy  Prefence ;  Grief 
 and  Anxiety  will  vanifh  before  thee,  and  im- 
 mortal Joys  furround  my  Soul, 
 
 Where  thou  art  prefent,  Heaven  and 
 Happinefs  enfue ;  Hell  and  Damnation  fills 
 the  Breaft  where  thou  art  abfent.   While  God 
 
 F  with- 
 
98         Devout  Exercises      XVII, 
 
 withdraws  I  am  encompafs'd  with  Darknefe 
 and  Defpair  %  the  Sun  and  Stars  (hinc  with  an 
 uncomfortable  Luftre  ;  the  Faces  of  my 
 Friends  grow  tirefome ;  the  Smiles  of  Angels 
 would  fail  to  chear  my  languifhing  Spirit.  I 
 grow  unacquainted  with  Tranquility ;  Peace 
 and  Joy  are  empty  Sounds  to  me^  and  Words 
 without  a  Meaning. 
 
 Tell  me  not  of  Glary  and  Pleafure^ 
 there  are  no  fuch  things  without  my  God  ; 
 while  he  withdraws,  what  Delight  can  thefe 
 Trifles  afford  ?  All  that  amufes  Mankind,  are 
 but  Dreams  of  Happinefs,  Shades  and  fan- 
 taftick  Appearances  :  what  Compenfation 
 can  they  make  for  an  infinite  Good  departed  ? 
 all  Nature  cannot  repair  my  Lofs :  Heaven 
 and  Earth  would  offer  their  Treafures  in  vain ; 
 not  all  the  Kingdoms  of  this  World,  nor  the 
 Thrones  of  Archangels,  could  give  me  a  Re- 
 Gompenfe  for  an  abfent  God. 
 
 O  WHERE  can  my  Grief  find  Redrefs  > 
 whence  can  I  draw  Satisfadlion  when  the 
 Fountain  of  Joy  feals  up  its  Streams  ?  My 
 Sorrows  are  hopelefs  till  he  return  ;  without 
 him  my  Night  will  never  fee  a  Dawn,  but 
 extend  to  everlafting  Darknefs :  Content  and 
 Joy  will  be  eternal  Strangers  to  my  Breafl. 
 Had  I  all  things  within  the  Compafs  of  Crea- 
 tion 
 
XVII.       of  the  Heart.  99 
 
 tion  to  delight  me,  his  Frowns  would  bbft 
 the  whole  Enjoyment :  ynreconcil'd  to  God, 
 my  Soul  would  be  for  ever  at  variance  with 
 itfelf. 
 
 Even  now,  while  I  believe  thy  Glory  hid 
 from  me  but  with  a  tranfient  Eclipfe,  while 
 I  wait  for  thy  Return  as  for  the  dawning  Day, 
 my  Soul  fuffers  inexpreffible  Agonies  at  the 
 Delay  ;  the  Minutes  feem  to  linger,  and  Days 
 are  lengthen'd  into  Ages :  But,  Lord,  what 
 keener  Anguifli  fhould  I  feel,  did  I  think  thy 
 Prefence  had  totally  forfaken  me,  did  I  imagine 
 thy  Glory  fhould  no  more  arife  on  my  Soul  ? 
 My  Spirits  fail  at  the  Suppofition  -,  I  cannot 
 face  the  dreadful  Apprehenfions  of  my  God 
 for  ever  gone.  Is  it  not  Hell  in  its  moft  hor- 
 rid Profpedl  ?  Eternal  Darknefs,  and  the  un- 
 dying Worm,  infinite  Ruin  and  irreparable 
 Damage  ?  Compared  to  this,  what  were  all 
 the  Plagues  that  Earth  could  threaten,  or 
 Hell  invent  ?  what's  Difgrace,  and  Poverty, 
 and  Pain  ?  what's  all  that  Mortals  fear,  real 
 or  imaginary  Evils  ?  they  are  nothing  com- 
 par'd  to  the  Terrors  which  the  Thought  of 
 lofing  my  God  excites. 
 
 O  THOU,  who  art  my  boundlefs  Treafure, 
 my  infinite  Dehght,  my  All,  my  ineffable  Por- 
 tion, can  I  part  with  thee  ?  I  may  fee  without 
 
 F  2  Light, 
 
100       Devout  Exercises     XVIIL 
 
 Light,  and  breathe  without  Air,  fooner  than 
 be  blefs'd  without  my  God.  Happinefs  fe- 
 parate  from  thee  were  a  Contradiftion,  an 
 Impoflibihty  (if  I  dare  fpeak  it)  to  Omnipo- 
 tence itfelf  I  feel  a  Flame  which  the  moft 
 glorious  Creation  could  not  fitisfy ;  an  Emp- 
 tinefs  which  nothing  but  infinite  Love  could 
 fill.  I  mufi:  find  thee,  or  weary  myfelf  in  an 
 eternal  Purfuit.  Nothing  fliall  divert  me  in 
 the  endlefs  Search,  no  Obftacle  fhall  fright 
 me  back,  no  Allurement  withold  me,  no- 
 thing fhall  flatter  or  relieve  my  Impa- 
 tience ;  my  Blifs,  my  Heaven,  my  All  de- 
 pends on  the  Succefs.  Shew  me  where  thou 
 art,  O  my  God,  conduft  me  into  thy  Pre- 
 fence,  and  let  thy  Love  confine  me  there 
 for  ever. 
 
 XVIII.  Appeals  to  Go  \y  concerning 
 the  Siipre7nacy  of  Love  to  hw2. 
 
 OG  O  D,  when  I  ceafe  to  love  and  praife 
 thee,  let  me  ceafe  to  breathe  and  live  ^ 
 when  I  forget  thee,  let  me  forget  the  Name 
 of  Ilappinels,  and  let  every  pleafing  Idea  be 
 razM  from  my  Memory.  When  thou  art  not 
 
 my 
 
XVIII.      of  i/je  Heart.  ioi 
 
 my  fupreme  Delight,  let  all  things  elfe  de- 
 ceive me^  let  me  grow  unacquainted  with 
 Peace,  and  feek  Repofe  in  vain :  let  Delufions 
 mock  my  gayeil  Hopes,  let  my  Defires  find 
 no  Satisfadtion,  till  they  are  terminated  all 
 in  thee.  When  I  forget  the  Satisfadions  of 
 thy  Love,  O  my  God,  let  Pleafure  be  a 
 Stranger  to  my  Soul ;  when  I  prefer  not  that 
 to  my  chiefeft  Joy,  let  me  be  infenfible  of  all 
 Delight  y  when  thy  Benignity  is  not  dearer  to 
 me  than  Life,  let  that  Life  become  my  Bur- 
 den and  my  Pain. 
 
 Search  the  inmoft  Receffes  of  my  Heart, 
 and  if  thou  findeft  any  Competitor  there,  rer- 
 move  the  darling  Vanity,and  blot  every  Name 
 but  thine  from  my  Breaft.  Let  me  find  no- 
 thing but  Emptinefs  in  the  Creature,  when  I 
 forfake  the  All-fufficient  Creator  :  Let  the 
 Streams  be  cut  off  when  I  wander  away  and 
 abandon  the  Fountain.  Let  me  be  deftitute 
 of  Affiftance  when  I  ceafe  to  rely  on  thee  ; 
 let  my  Lips  be  for  ever  filent  when  they  refufe 
 to  acknowledge  thy  Benefits,  and  make  not 
 thee  the  Subjeft  of  their  higheft  Praife.  Let 
 no  joyful  Strain  enter  at  my  Ears,  when  thy 
 Name  is  not  the  moft  delightful  Sound  they 
 can  convey  to  my  Heart. 
 
 I  HAVE  been  pronouncing  heavy  Curfes 
 
 F  3  on 
 
102        Devout  Exercises    XVIIL 
 
 on  myfelf,  if  thy  Love  be  not  my  chief  Blef- 
 fing  3  yet,  O  my  deareft  Good,  my  Portion, 
 and  my  only  Felicity,  might  I  not  go  on  far- 
 ther fti!!,  and  even  venture  immortal  Joys  on 
 the  Sincerity  of  my  Love  to  thee  ?  Blefled 
 Lord,  forgive  thefe  dangerous  Efforts  of  a  mor- 
 tal Tongue,  which  are  the  mere  Out-break- 
 ings of  a  fervent  Affedlion.  I  could  even  dare 
 to  pledge  all  my  Hopes  and  my  Pretenfions 
 to  future  Happinefs,  (andO  let  not  my  Heart 
 deceive  me)  I  think  I  could  rifque  them  all,  if 
 thou  thyfelf  art  not  the  Objeft  of  my  bright- 
 eft  Hopes,  and  the  Light  of  thy  Countenance 
 the  Height  of  that  expedled  Happinefs. 
 
 If  I  defire  any  thing  in  Heaven  or  on  Earth 
 in  comparifon  of  thee,  I  am  almoft  ready  to 
 fav,  Banifh  me  as  an  eternal  Exile  from  the 
 Light  of  Paradife:  Even  that  Paradife  vv^ould 
 be  melancholy  Darknefs  without  thee,  and 
 the  obfcureft  Corner  of  the  Creation,  blefs'd 
 with  thy  Prefence,  would  be  more  agreeable. 
 Oh !  where  could  I  be  happy  remote  from 
 thee?  what  imaginable  Good  could  fupply 
 thy  Abfence  ?  Say,  O  my  God,  do  I  not  love 
 thee  ? 
 
 Shall  I  call  the  Holy  Angels  to  witnefs  ? 
 ihall  I  call  Heaven  and  Earth  to  witnefs?  Will 
 pot  the  moft  high  God  himfelf,  the  Profeffor 
 
 of 
 
XIX.        of  the  Heart.  103 
 
 of  Heaven  and  Earth  condefcend  to  witnefs 
 the  Ardour  and  Sincerity  of  my  Love  ? 
 
 With  what  Pleafure  do  I  refled:  on  the 
 Obligations  by  v^hich  I  have  devoted  myfelf 
 to  thee  ?  My  Soul  colledls  itfelf,  and  with  an 
 intire  Affent  gives  up  all  its  Powers  to  thee  :  I 
 would  bind  myfelf  to  thee  beyond  all  the 
 Ties  that  Mortals  know.  You  Minifters  of 
 Light,  give  me  your  Flames,  and  teach  me 
 your  cekftial  Forms ;  let  all  be  noble  and  pa^ 
 thetick,  and  folemn  as  your  own  immortal 
 Vows,  and  I  will  joyfully  go  through  them  all 
 to  bind  myfelf  to  my  God  for  ever.  Say, 
 now,  ye  Heavens  and  Earth,  fay,  ye  holy  An- 
 gels, and  O  thou  all-knowing  God,  fay,  do  I 
 not  love  thee  ? 
 
 XIX.   A  devout  Rapture^  or  Love 
 to  God  inexprejfible. 
 
 THOU  radiant  Sun,  thou  Moon,  and  all 
 ye  fparkling  Stars,  how  gladly  would 
 I  leave  your  pleafant  Light  to  fee  the  Face  of 
 God?  Ye  Cryftal  Streams,  ye  Groves  and 
 flowry  Lawns,  my  innocent  Delights,  how 
 joyfully  could  I  leave  you  to  meet  that  blifs- 
 
 F  4  ful 
 
I04         Devout  ExEKCiSEs     XIX. 
 
 fill  Profped  ?  and  you  delightful  Faces  of  my 
 Friends,  I  would  this  Moment  quit  you  all  to 
 fee  him  whom  my  Soul  loves ;  fo  loves,  that  I 
 can  find  no  Words  to  exprefs  the  unutterable 
 Ardour :  Not  as  the  Mifcr  loves  his  Wealth, 
 nor  the  Ambitious  his  Grandeur  ;  not  as  the 
 Libertine  loves  his  Pleafures,  or  the  generous 
 Man  his  Friend :  thefe  are  flat  Similitudes  to 
 defcribe  fuch  an  intenfe  Paffion  as  mine.  Not 
 as  a  Man  fcorch^d  in  a  Fever,  longs  for  a  cool- 
 ing Draught ;  not  as  a  weary  Traveller  wiihes 
 for  foft  Repofe ;  my  reftlefs  Defires  admit  of 
 no  equal  Comparifon  from  thefe. 
 
 I  LOVE  my  Friends  my  vital  Breath  and 
 the  Light  of  Heaven   are  dear  to  me :  But 
 fhould  I  fay,  I  love  my  God  as  I  love  thefe, 
 I  fhould  belie  the  facred  Flame  which  afpires 
 to  Infinity.     Tis  thee,  abftradtly  thee,  O  un- 
 created Beauty,    that  I  love  3    in  thee,  my 
 Wiflies  are  all  terminated ;  in  thee  as  in  their 
 blifsful  Centre,  all  my  Defires  meet,  and  there 
 they  muft  be  eternally  fixed :  Tis  thou  a- 
 lone  that  muft  conftitute  my  everlafting  Hap- 
 pinefs.     Were  the  Harps   of  Angels   filent, 
 there  would  be   Harmony  for  me    in   the 
 Whifpers  of  thy  Love :  Were  the  Fields  of 
 Light  darken'd,  thy  Smiles  would  blefs  me 
 with  everlafting  Day  :  the  Vifion  of  thy  Face 
 
 will 
 
XIX.        of  the  Hear  t.  105 
 
 will  attradl  my  Eyes,  nor  give  me  leifure  to 
 wafte  a  Look  on  other  Objedls  to  all  Eter- 
 nity any  farther  than  God  is  to  be  feen  in  his 
 Creatures.  All  their  Beams  of  Grace,  and  Joy, 
 and  Glory,  are  deriv'd  from  thee  the  eternal 
 Sun,  and  will  merit  my  Attention  no  farther 
 than  they  refled:  thy  Image,  or  difcover  thy 
 Excellencies. 
 
 Even  at  this Diftance,  encompafs'd  with 
 the  Shades  of  Death,  and  the  Mifts  of  Dark- 
 nefs,  in  thefe  cold  melancholy  Regions  when 
 a  Ray  of  thy  Love  breaks  in  on  my  Soul,  when 
 thro'  the  Clouds  I  can  trace  but  one  feeble 
 Beam,  even  that  obfcures  all  human  Glory, 
 and  gives  me  a  Contempt  for  whatever  Mor- 
 tality can  boaft.  What  Wonders  then  will 
 the  open  Vifion  of  thy  Face  effed:,  when  I 
 fhall  enjoy  it  in  fo  fublime  a  Degree,  that  the 
 Magnificence  of  the  Skies  will  not  draw  my 
 Regard,  nor  the  Converfe  of  Angels  divert 
 my  Thoughts  from  thee  ?  Thou  wilt  engrofs 
 my  everlafting  Attention,  and  I  fliould  abound 
 in  Felicity  if  I  had  nothing  to  entertain  me 
 but  immediate  Communion  with  the  infinite 
 Divinity. 
 
 Mend  thy  Pace,  old  lazy  Time,  and 
 fhake  thy  heavy  Sands ;  make  fhorter  Circles 
 ye  rolling  Planets  s  when  will  your  deftin'd 
 
 Courfes 
 
io6         Devout  Exercises     XIX 
 
 Courfes  be  fulfilled  ?  Thou  reftlefs  Sun,  how 
 long  wilt  thou  travel  the  celeftial  road  ?  when 
 will  thy  ftarry  walk  be  finifhed  ?  when  will 
 the  commiffioned  angel  arreft  thee  in  thy 
 progrefs,  and  lifting  up  his  Hand,  fwear  by 
 the  unnutterable  Name,  that  "Time  Jhall  he  no 
 more,  O  happy  Period !  my  impatient  Soul 
 fprings  forward  to  falute  thee,  and  leaves  the 
 lagging  Days,  and  Months,  and  Years  far 
 behind.  Make  hajle^  my  Beloved^  and  be  like  a 
 Roe,  or  a  young  Hart  on  the  fpicey  Mountains, 
 
 I  PINE,  I  die  for  a  Sight  of  thy  Counte- 
 nance ;  oh !  turn  the  Veil  afide,  blow  away 
 the  feparating  Cloud  -,  pull  out  the  Pins  of 
 this  Tabernacle,  break  the  Cords,  and  let  fall 
 the  Curtain  of  Mortality.  Qh !  let  it  inter- 
 pofe  no  longer  between  me  and  my  perfed 
 Blifs.  I  feel  thofe  Flames  of  divine  Love, 
 which  are  unextinguiihable  as  the  Lights  of 
 Heaven,  not  Death  itfelf  fhall  quench  the 
 facred  ardour. 
 
 Ye  Minifters  of  Light,  je  Guardians  of 
 the  Juft,  ftand  and  witnefs  to  my  Vows; 
 and  in  a  humble  Dependance  on  thy  Grace, 
 O  J  ejus,  may  I  not  venture  to  bid  thefe  thy 
 flaming  Minifters  proteft  againft  me  when  I 
 change  my  Love,  and  ftand  my  Accufers  at 
 the  laft  Judgment?  When  Iprove  falfe  to  thee, 
 
 may 
 
XIX.         of  the  He  A^r.         107 
 
 may  I  not  venture  to  fay  to  them  all,  Bring  in 
 your  awful  Evidence,  and  proclaim  my  Per- 
 jury- 
 
 For  you  have  lijlefid^  while  the/acred  Name 
 That  kindles  in  each  heavenly  Breaji  a  Flame  ^ 
 You  lijlend  while  it  melted  on  my  ToJigue^ 
 Flow  d from  my  Lips y  and grac' d  the  Midnight 
 
 Song. 
 Blefsd  was  the  Time^  and fwiftly  fled  the  Hours 
 While  holy  Love  employed  my  noblefl  Powers  : 
 The  Heavens  appear  dy  and  the  propitious  Skies 
 JJfiveir  d  their  inmofl  Glories  to  my  Eyes. 
 Oh  !  ftayy  Icrfd,  ye  happy  Moments  flay  y 
 Nor    in  your   Flight  fnatch  thefe  Delights 
 
 away : 
 I  afli  no  more  the  rijing  Sun  to  vieWy 
 To  Mortals  and  their  Hopes  1  bid  adieu. 
 
 These  Heavens  and  this  Earth  have  been 
 Witnefles  to  my  Vows :  The  holy  Angels 
 have  been  witnefles,  and  all  will  join  toge- 
 ther to  condemn  me  when  I  violate  my  Faith. 
 Strengthen  and  confirm  it,  O  my  Saviour^ 
 and  make  the  Bonds  of  it  immortal. 
 
 If  I  were  only  to  reafon  upon  this  Sub- 
 jedt,  I  might  fay,  what  Motive  could  Earth, 
 
 what 
 
io8       Devout  Exerciser       XIX. 
 
 what  could  Hell,  what  could  Heaven  itfelf 
 propofe  to  tempt  my  Soul  to  change  its  Love  ? 
 what  could  they  lay  in  the  Balance  againft 
 an  infinite  Good  ?  what  could  be  thrown  in 
 as  a  Stake  againft  the  Favour  of  God  ?  Alk 
 the  happy  Souls  who  know  what  the  Light 
 of  his  Countenance  imports,  who  drink  in 
 Joy  and  Immortality  from  his  Smiles,  aik 
 them  what  Value  they  fet  on  their  Enjoy- 
 ments 3  afk  them  what  in  Heaven  or  Earth 
 ihould  purchafe  one  Moment's  Interval  of  their 
 BUfs  5  afk  fome  radiant  Seraph,  amidft  the 
 Fervency  of  his  Raptures,  at  what  Price  he 
 values  his  Happinefs  :  and  when  thefe  have 
 named  the  Purchafe,  Earth   and  Hell  may 
 try  to  balance  mine.     Let  them  fpread  the 
 Baits  that  tempt  deluded  Men  to  Ruin  -,  let 
 Riches,    Honour,    Beauty,    and  bewitching 
 Pleafure  appear  in  all  their  Charms,  the  Senfu- 
 ality  of  the  prefent  and  paft  Ages,  the  Per^ 
 fian  Delicacy,  and  the  Roman  Pride  ;  let  them 
 uncover  the  golden  Mines,  and  difclofe  the 
 Ruby  fparkling  in  its  Bed  j  letl:hem  open  the 
 Veins  of  Sapphire,  and  fhew  the  Diamond 
 glittering  on  its  Rock  ^  let  them  all  be  thrown 
 into  the  Balance ;  alas !   their  Weight  is  too 
 
 little  and  too  light. Let  the  Pageantries  of 
 
 State  be  added,  imperial  Titles,  and  the  En- 
 
 figns 
 
XIX.       of  the  HtAKT.  tog 
 
 ligns  of  Majefty ;  put  in  all  that  boundlefs 
 Vanity  imagines,  or  wild  Ambition  craves. 
 Crowns  and  Sceptres,  regal  Veftments  and 
 golden  Thrones — the  Scale  ftill  mounts. — - 
 
 Throw  in  the  World  intire 'tis  unfubftan- 
 
 tial,  and  light  as  airy  Vanity. 
 
 Are  thefe  thy  higheft  Boafts,  O  deluding 
 
 World  ? Ye  Minifters  of  Darknefs,  have 
 
 you  nothing  elfe  to  offer  ?  are  thefe  your  ut- 
 moft  Propofals  ?  are  thefe  a  Compenfation 
 forthe  Favour  of  God?  Alas!  that  bound- 
 lefs Word  has  a  Meaning  which  out- weighs 
 them  all:  Infinite  Delight,  unconceivable  Joy 
 are  exprefs'd  in  it  ;  the  Light  of  his  Coun- 
 tenance fignifies  more  than  Angels  can  de- 
 fcribe,  or  Mortality  imagine:  And  fliall  I  quit 
 all  that  an  everlafling  Heaven  means,  for 
 empty  Shadows  ? 
 
 G  o,  ye  bafHed  Tempters,  go  offer  your 
 Toys  to  Madmen  and  Fools ;  they  all  vanifh 
 under  my  Scorn,  and  cannot  yield  fo 
 much  as  an  Amufement  to  my  afpiring 
 Thoughts.  The  Sun  in  all  his  fpacious  Cir- 
 cuit, beholds  nothing  to  tempt  my  Wifhes. 
 Thefe  winding  Skies  in  all  their  ample  Round 
 contain  nothing  equal  to  my  Defires  ;  my 
 Ambition  has  far  different  Ends,  and  other 
 
 Profpeds 
 
no      Devout  Exercises       XIX. 
 
 Profpeds  in  view  j  nothing  below  the  Joys  of 
 Angels  can  fatisfy  me. 
 
 Let  me  explore  the  Worlds  of  Life  and 
 Beauty,  and  find  a  Path  to  the  dazzling  Re- 
 ceffes  of  the  Moft  High :  Let  me  drink  at 
 the  Fountain-head  of  Pleafure,  and  derive 
 all  that  I  want  from  original  and  uncreated 
 Fullnefs  and  Felicity. 
 
 Oh  divine  Love !  let  me  launch  out  into 
 thy  pleafurable  Depths,  and  be  fwallowed  up 
 of  thee :  Let  me  plunge  at  once  in  immortal 
 Joy,  and  lofe  myfelf  in  the  infinite  Ocean  of 
 Happinefs. 
 
 Till  then  I  pine  for  my  celeftial  coun- 
 try; till  then  I  murmur  to  the  Winds  and 
 Streams,  and  tell  the  folitary  {hades  my  Grief. 
 The  Groves  are  confcious  to  my  Complaints, 
 and  the  Moon  and  Stars  liften  to  my  Sighs ; 
 by  their  filent  Lights  I  talk  over  my  heavenly 
 Concerns,  and  give  a  Vent  to  my  divine  Af- 
 fections in  mortal  Language ;  then  looking 
 upward,  I  grow  impatient  to  reach  the  milky 
 Way,  the  Seats  of  Joy  and  Immortality. 
 
 Come  Love^  come  Life^  and  that  blefsd  Day 
 For  which  I  lajiguijh^  come  away  -, 
 When  this  dry  Souly  thefe  Eyes  Jhall  fee^ 
 And  drink  the  imfeal'd  Source  of  thee. 
 
 Oh 
 
XIX.       of  l&e  He  AKT.  iii 
 
 Oh  come,  I  cry,  thou  whom  my  Soul 
 loveth  :  I  would  go  on,  but  want  Expreffion, 
 and  vainly  ftruggle  with  the  unutterable 
 Thought. 
 
 Tell  me,  you  Sons  of  Light,  who  feel 
 the  Force  of  thefe  celeftial  Fires,  in  what 
 Language  you  paint  their  facred  Violence  ? 
 or  do  the  Tongues  of  Seraphs  faulter  ?  does 
 the  Language  of  Paradife  want  Emphafis 
 here,  and  immortal  Eloquence  fail  ?  Surely 
 your  Happinefs  is  more  perfed;  than  all  your 
 Defcriptions  of  it:  Heaven  ecchoes  to  your 
 charming  Notes  as  far  as  they  reach,  while 
 divine  Love,  which  is  all  your  Song,  is  infinite, 
 and  knows  no  Limits  of  Degree  or  Duration. 
 
 Yet  I  would  fay,  fome  gentle  Spirit, come 
 and  inftrud:  me  in  your  Art ;  lend  me  a 
 golden  Harp,  and  guide  the  facred  Flight ; 
 let  me  imitate  your  devout  Strains,  let  me 
 copy  out  your  Harmony,  and  then. 
 
 Some  of  thefaireft  ^ire  above 
 
 Shall  flock  around  my  Songy 
 With  Joy  to  hear  the  Name  they  love 
 
 Sound  from  a  mortal  Tongue^ 
 
 Blessed  and  immortal  Creatures,  I  long 
 to  join  with  you  in  your  celeftial  Style  of 
 
 Ado- 
 
112        Devout  Exercises     XIX. 
 
 Adoration  and  Love,  I  long  to  learn  your 
 Extafies  of  Worfliip  and  Joy  in  a  Language 
 which  Mortals  cannot  pronounce,  and  to 
 fpeak  the  divine  Paffion  of  my  Soul  in  Words 
 which  are  now  unfpeakable. 
 
 XX.  Self-reproof  for  InaBivity. 
 
 IS  it  poffible  that  I  fhould  one  Day  be  rapt 
 almoft  into  the  third  Heavens,  and  eVe  a 
 few  Weeks  have  paffed  over  me,  I  fhould  find 
 myfelf  creeping  among  the  Infedts  of  the 
 Earth,  and  almoft  as  meanly  bufied  as  they  ? 
 Can  divine  Love,  which  exalted  me  lately 
 into  flaming  Tranfports,  fo  far  fubfide  and 
 grow  cool  within  me  ?  can  it  leave  me  fo 
 unadtive  as  I  now  feel  myfelf  ?  What  (hall  I 
 do  to  fliame  my  Confcience  with  Reproaches, 
 and  renew  the  Flame  of  religious  Zeal  and 
 Vigour. 
 
 Alas!  how  does  the  Adlivity  of  Men 
 about  the  little  Affairs  of  human  Life  con- 
 demn my  Negligence  in  Matters  of  everlaft- 
 ingConfequence?  Does  the  fond  Lover  with 
 fuch  Anxiety  and  Impatience  purfue  the  Ob- 
 jeft  of  his  Wifhes,  and  fhall  not  divine 
 I  Beauty 
 
XX.        ^/^^  Heart.  113 
 
 Beauty  and  infinite  Lovelinefs  enflame  my 
 Defires  to  a  nobler  Height,  and  excite  my 
 languiihing  Devotion  ? 
 
 Are  the  Ambitious  fo  reftlefs  and  follici- 
 tous  to  make  themfelves  great,  and  to  pur- 
 chafe  the  Veneration  of  Fools  ?  Do  they  lay 
 fuch  mighty  Projed:s,  and  compafs  their  De- 
 figns  with  fuch  Pains  and  Difficulty,  for  mere 
 Pageantry  and  gaudy  Trifles  5  and  ihall  I,  who 
 am  a  Candidate  for  Heaven,  a  Probationer  for 
 celeftial  Dignity,  lofe  my  Title  for  want  of 
 Diligence  ?  Shall  I  faint  in  the  noble  Strife, 
 when  God  and  Angels  are  ready  to  affift  me, 
 and  every  Moment's  Toil  will  be  recompenc'd 
 with  eternal  Ages  of  Reft  and  Triumph  ? 
 
 See,  fee,  the  Moments  fly,  the  Labour 
 fhortens,  and  the  immenfe  Reward  draws 
 near;  the  Palm  of  Vidtory,  the ftarry Crown 
 are  in  View ;  the  happy  Realms  and  Fields 
 of  Light  entertain  me  with  their  glorious 
 Profpedt.  Rouze  thee,  my  Soul,  to  the  moft 
 adtive  Purfuit  of  thefe  Felicities :  Waken  all 
 thy  fprightly  Powers,  and  let  it  never,  never 
 be  thy  Reproach,  that  the  Vigour  and  In- 
 tenfenefs  of  thy  Labours  fall  fhort  of  the 
 Pretenfions  of  thy  Defire  -,  or  that  thy  holy 
 Induftry  (hould  fink  fo  far  below  the  Fervour 
 
 G  of 
 
114        Devout  Exercises       XXL 
 
 of  thofe  Afeftions,  which  in  a  devout  Hour 
 thou  haft  pronounced  inexprejjible, 
 
 O  Lord,  what  a  mutable  thing  is  Man  ? 
 what  Frailty  works  in  this  Flefh  and  Bloody, 
 and  hangs  heavy  upon  our  better  Powers  ? 
 'Tis  Grace,  divine  Grace  alone,  can  keep  alive 
 that  immortal  Spark  within  us,  which  came 
 firft  from  Heaven,  and  firft  taught  our 
 Hearts  to  arife  and  fpring  upward.  Prefer ve 
 and  complete  thy  own  Work,  Almighty 
 Grace. 
 
 XXL  A  joyful  View  of  approaching 
 
 Death. 
 
 Death,  where  is  thy  Sting  ?  where  i& 
 thy  boafted  Vidlory  ?  The  Conqueft  is 
 mine  \  I  fhall  pafs  in  Triumph  thro'  thy  dark 
 Dominions,  and  thro'  the  Grace  of  the  Son  of 
 God,  my  divine  Leader,  I  fliall  appear  there 
 not  a  Captive  but  a  Conqueror. 
 
 O'-KiNG  of  Terrors,  where  are  thy  for- 
 midable Looks  ?  I  can  fee  nothing  dreadful 
 in  thy  Afpcxt  ?  Thou  appeareft  with  no' To- 
 kens of  Defiance,  nor  doft  thou  come  with 
 ?fummons  from  a  fevcre  Judge  j  but  gentle 
 
 lavi- 
 
XVII.       ofthen^AKT.  115 
 
 Invitations  from* my  bleffcd  Redeemer,  who 
 has  pall  glorioufly  thro'  thy  Territories,  in 
 his  Way  to  his  Throne. 
 
 Thrice  welcome,  thou  kind  Meffenger  of 
 my  Liberty  and  Happinefs !  a  thoufand  times 
 more  welcome  than  Jubilee  to  the  wretched 
 Slave,  than  Pardon  to  a  condemned  Male- 
 fadlor  :  I  am  going  from  Darknefs  and  Con- 
 finement to  immenfe  Light  and  perfecS  Li- 
 berty ;  from  thefe  tempeftuous  Regions  to  the 
 foft  and  peaceful  Climes  above ;    from  Pain 
 and  Grief  to  everlafting  Eafe  and  Tranquil- 
 lity.    For  the  Toils  of  Virtue,  I  (hall  imme- 
 diately receive  its  vail  Rewards ;  for  the  Re- 
 proach of  Fools,  the  Honour  and  Applaufe 
 of  Angels.     In  a  few  Minutes  I   fliall  be 
 higher  than  yonder  Stars,    and  brighter  far 
 than  they.  I  fhall  range  the  boundlefs  Ether, 
 and  breathe  the  balmy  Airs  of  Paradife.     I 
 fhall  prefently  behold  my  glorious  Maker,  and 
 fing  Hallelujahs  to  my  exalted  Saviour. 
 
 And  now  come,  ye  bright  Guardians  of 
 the  Jufl,  condud  me  through  the  unknown 
 and  tracklefs  Ether,  for  you  pafs  and  repafs 
 this  celeftial  Road  continually  5  you  have 
 Commiffion  not  to  leave  me  till  I  arrive  at 
 Mount  Sion^  the  heavenly  ^eriifakm^  the 
 City  of  the  living  God  ;  till  I  come  to  the  in- 
 
 G  2  numerable 
 
ii6      Devout  Exercises       XXI, 
 
 numerable  Company  of  Angels,  and  the 
 Spirits  of  jufl  Men  made  perfed:. 
 
 Hold  out,  Faith  and  Patience;  'tis  but 
 a  little  while  and  your  Work  will  be  at  an 
 End ;  but  a  few  Moments  and  thefe  Sighs 
 and  Groans  fhall  be  converted  into  everlaft- 
 ing  Hallelujahs ;  but  a  few  weary  Steps  and 
 the  Journey  of  Life  will  be  finifh'd.  One 
 Effort  more,  and  I  Ihall  have  gain'd  the  Top 
 of  the  everlafling  Hills,  and  from  yonder 
 bright  Summit  fhall  prefently  look  back  on 
 the  Dangers  I  have.efcaped  in  my  Travels 
 through  the  Wildernefs. 
 
 RoLLfafteron,  ye  lingring  Minutes ;  the 
 nearer  my  Joys,  the  more  impatient  I  am  to 
 feize  them  :  After  thefe  painful  Agonies  how 
 greedily  fhall  I  drink  in  immortal  Eafe  and 
 Pleafure?  Break  away,  ye  thick  Clouds,  be 
 gone,  ye  envious  Shades,  and  let  me  behold 
 the  Glories  ye  conceal :  Let  me  fee  the  pro- 
 mised Land,  and  furvey  the  happy  Regions 
 I  am  immediately  to  poffefs.  How  long  will 
 you  interpofe  betw^ecn  me  and* my  bright  Sun? 
 between  me  and  the  unclouded  Face  of  God  ? 
 Look  up,  my  Soul,  fee  how  fweetly  thofe  re- 
 viving Beams  break  forth !  how  they  difpel 
 the  Gloom,  and  gild  the   Sliades  of  Death  1 
 
 O   BLEST 
 
XXI.        ^/^^  Heart,*  117 
 
 O  BLEST  Eternity,  with  what  a  chearful 
 Splendour  doft  thou  dawn  on  my  Soul  ?  with 
 thee  comes  Liberty,  and  Peace,  and  Love, 
 and  endlefs  Felicity ;  but  Pain,  and  Sorrow, 
 and  Tumult,  and  Death,  and  Darknefs  vanifh 
 before  thee  for  ever.  I  am  jufl  upon  the 
 Shores  of  thofe  happy  Realms  where  uninter- 
 rupted Day  and  eternal  Spring  refide :  Yon- 
 der are  the  delegable  Hills  and  harmonious 
 Vales  which  continually  eccho  to  the  Songs  of 
 Angels.  There  the  blifsful  Fields  extend 
 their  Verdure,  and  there  the  immortal  Groves 
 afcend  5  but  how  dazling  is  thy  Profpe^fl,  O 
 City  of  God,  of  whom  fuch  glorious  things 
 are  fpoken  ?  In  thee  there  Jhall  be  no  more 
 Nighty  nor  need  of  the  Sun  or  Moon-,  for  the 
 Throne  of  God,  and  of  the  Lamb  is  in  the 
 Midft  of  thee,  and  the  Nations  that  are  fa- 
 'vedjhall  wnlk  in  thy  Light,  and  the  King^  of 
 the  Earth  jhall  bring  their  Glo7y  a?id  Honour 
 into  thee,  and  there  the  glorious  Lord  pall  be 
 to  us  a  Place  of  Defence,  a  Place  of  Streams 
 and  broad  Rivers,  and  the  Voice  of  Jcy,  and 
 the  Shout  of  Triumph  fhall  be  heard  in  thee 
 for  ever. 
 
 "There  holy  Souls  perpetual  Sabbaths  keep 
 And  never  are  concerned  for  Food  or  Sleep  : 
 
 G  3  Tjere 
 
ii8         Devout  Exercises     XXIL 
 
 ^ere  new-come  Saints  with  Wreaths  of  Light 
 
 are  crown  d^ 
 While  ivory  Harps  andfiher  Trumpets  found : 
 Tloere  faming  Seraphs  facred  Hy?nns  begin ^ 
 And  raptur' d  Cherubs  loud  Refponfcs  fing. 
 
 My  Eyes  Jhall  there  behold  the  King  in  his 
 Beauty y  and  oh  !  how  ravifliing  will  the  Af- 
 peds  of  his  Love  be  ?  What  unutterable  Ex- 
 tafies  fhall  I  feel,  when  I  meet  thofe  Smiles 
 A\'hich  enlighten  Heaven,  and  exhilerate  all 
 the  celeftial  Regions  ?  when  I  fliall  viev/  the 
 beatifick  Glory  without  one  interpoling  Cloud 
 to  Eternity  ?  when  I  fhall  diink  my  Fill  at 
 the  Fountains  of  Joy,  and  in  thofe  Rivers  of 
 Pleafure  that  flow  from  his  Right-hand  for 
 ever. 
 
 *}*4^ 
 
 XXIL  A  devout  Refig7iati6n  of  Self 
 to  the  divine  Power  and  Goodnejs. 
 
 MY  all-fufficient  Friend,  my  Shield^  and 
 my  exceedifjg  great  Reward !  I  have 
 enough :  Unbounded  Avarice  can  covet  no- 
 thing beyond  Thee  ^  the  Soul  whom  thou  doft 
 
 not 
 
\ 
 
 XXII.        oftheVL^A^r.  119 
 
 not  fuffice,  deferves  to  be  eternally  poor. 
 Thou  art  my  fupreme  Happinefs,  my  volun- 
 tary Choice :  I  took  thy  Love  alone  for  my 
 Treafure  in  that  bleft  Day  when  I  enter'd  in- 
 to Covenant  with  thee,  and  became  thine  :  I 
 made  no  Articles  with  thee  for  the  Friend- 
 ships, the  Honours  andPleafures  of  the  World; 
 but  folemnly  renounced  them  all,  and  ciiofe 
 thy  Favour  for  my  fingle  Inheritance,  leaving 
 the  Condud;  of  my  Life  entirely  to  thee. 
 
 These  were  my  Vows,  and  thefe  I  have 
 often  renewed ;  and  fliall  I  now  retradl  fuch 
 facred  Obligations,  and  alter  a  Choice  fo  jufl 
 and  reafonable  ?  Forbid  it,  gracious  God  !  let 
 me  never  be  guilty  of  fuch  Madnefs  :  The 
 World  has  often  difappointed  my  moft  con- 
 fident Expedlations,  but  thou  haft  never  de- 
 ceiv'd  me.  In  all  my  Diftrefs  I  have  found 
 thee  a  certain  Refuge,  my  Shield^  ??jy  For^ 
 trefsy  my  high  Tower ^  my  Deliverer^  my  Rock^ 
 and  he  in  whom  I  triift.  When  there  was 
 none  to  fave  me,  thy  powerful  Hand  has  fet  me 
 free  \  thou  haft  redrefs'd  my  Grievances,  and 
 diffipated  my  Fears ;  thou  has  brought  me 
 Light  out  of  Obfcurity,  and  turn'd  my  Dark- 
 nefs  into  Day. 
 
 Wh  E  N  the  World  could  afford  me  nothine 
 but  Tempeft  and  Diforder,  with  thee  I  have 
 
 G  4  found 
 
120       Devout  Exercises     XXII. 
 
 found  Repofe  and  nndlfturb'd  Traiiquillity. 
 Thca  haft  been  my  long-expeiienc'd  Refuge, 
 my  unfailing  Confidence,  and  I  ftedEiftly  de- 
 pend on  thee  for  my  future  Condudt.  I  can- 
 not err  when  guided  by  infinite  Wifdom  -,  I 
 muft  be  fafe  in  the  Arms  of  eternal  Love,  to 
 which  I  hun  bly  refign  myfelf.  Let  me  have 
 Riches  or  Poverty,  Honour  or  Contempt ; 
 whatever  comes  from  thy  Hands  fliall  be 
 thankfully  received.  I  would  hear  no  Voice 
 but  thine,  nor  make  a  Step  but  where  I  am 
 following  thee. 
 
 If  thou  wouldft  leave  me  to  chufe  for  my- 
 felf, I  would  refign  the  Choice  again  to  thee, 
 I  dread  nothing  more  than  the  Guidance  of 
 my  own  blind  Defires ;  I  tremble  at  the 
 Thoughts  of  fuch  a  fatal  Liberty  :  Avert, 
 gracious  God,  that  mjferable  Freedom.  Thou 
 forefeeft  all  Events,  and  at  one  fingle  View 
 doft  look  thro' eternal  Confequences^  there- 
 fore do  thou  determine  my  Circumftances, 
 not  to  gratify  my  own  wild  *  Defires,  but  to 
 advance  thy  Glory. 
 
 Thou  haft  an  unqueftion'd  Right  to  dif- 
 pofe  qf  me  ;  I  am  thine  by  neceflliry  Ties  and 
 voluntary  Engagements,  which  I  thankfully 
 ^.cknov^^lcdge  and  folcmnly  renew  :  Delibe- 
 fUtcly   and  entirely  I  put  myfelf  into   thy 
 
 Hands. 
 
XXII.       of  t^e  Heart.  121 
 
 Hands.  Whatever  Intereft  I  have  in  this 
 World  I  facrifice  to  thee,  and  leave  my  dear- 
 eft  Enjoyments  to  thy  Difpofal,  acknow- 
 ledging it  my  greateft  Happinefs  to  be  guided 
 by  thee. 
 
 Lor  J,  what  is  Man,  that  thou  art  mindful 
 of  him'?  that  thou  w^ho  art  fupremely  blefs'd, 
 and  independently  happy,  fhouldft  concern 
 thyfelf  with  human  Affairs,  and  condefcend 
 to  make  our  Wants  as  much  thy  Care  as  if 
 mortal  Miferies  could  reach  thee,  and  inter- 
 rupt immortal  Bleflednefs.  Thou  would'ft 
 make  us  fenfible  of  thine  Indulgence  by  the 
 moft  tender  Similitudes:  A  Father's  gentle 
 Care  but  faintly  fliadows  thine,  and  all  we 
 can  conceive  of  human  Pity  falls  fliort  of 
 thy  Compaffion.  Thou  doft  feem  to  fhare  in 
 our  Calamities,  and  fympathize  in  all  our 
 Grief.  No  Friend  flies  to  our  Afliftance  with 
 half  the  Speed  that  Love  brings  thee,  nor 
 canft  thou  ever  want  Methods  to  relieve  thofe 
 that  confide  in  thee. 
 
 Thy  Providence  finds  or  makes  its  Way 
 thro'  all  Oppofitions :  The  Streams  fliall  roll 
 back  to  their  Fountains,  the  Sun  fhall  ftand 
 ftill,  and  the  Courfe  of  Nature  be  revers'd, 
 rather  than  thou  want  Means  to  bring  thy 
 Purpofes  to  pafs.     No  Obftacle  puts  a  Stand 
 
 to 
 
122      Devout  Exercises     XXIV. 
 
 to  thy  Defigns,  nor  obftrud  thy  Methods : 
 'Tis  thy  Will  that  makes  Nature  and  Necef- 
 fity :  Who  can  ftay  thy  Hand,  or  fay  unto 
 thee.  What  dojl    thou  ?  Thy  Counfel  fhall 
 ftand,  and   thou    wilt  do  all  thy  Pleafure 
 Nothing  is  impoffible  for  thee  to  accomplifli  \ 
 Wherever  I  caft  my  Eyes,  I  fee  Inftances  of 
 thy  Power  :  The  extended  Firmament,  the 
 Sun  and  Stars,  tell  me  v/hat  thou  art  able  to 
 perform  -,  they  atteft  thy  Omnipotence,  and 
 rebuke  my  Unbelief     The  whole  Creation 
 pleads  for  thee,  and  condemns  my  Infidelity. 
 Almighty  God,  forgive  my  Diffidence, 
 while  I  confefs  'tis  moft  inexcufable.     Thy 
 Hand  is  not  fhorten'd,  nor  are  the  Springs  of 
 thy  Bounty  feal'd ;  thy  antient  Miracles  have 
 notexhauftedthy  Strength,  nor  hath  perpetual 
 Beneficence  impoverifli'd  thee  ^   thy  Power 
 remains  undiminifhy,  and    thy    Mercy  en- 
 durcth  for  ever.  That  dazzling  Attribute  fur- 
 rounds  me  with  tranfporting  Glories :  Which 
 Way  foever  I  turn,  I  meet  the  ^bright  Convic. 
 tion :  I  cannot  recal  a  Day  of  my  paft  Life 
 on  which  fome  Signature  of  thy  Goodnefs  is 
 not  ftamp'd. 
 
 Oh  !  who  hath  tapdof  thy  Clemency 
 In  greater  meajure  or  more  oft  than  I? 
 
 Which 
 
XXIII.       cf  de  Heakt.  123 
 
 Which  Way  foe  er  I  turn  my  Face  or  Feef, 
 1  fee  thy  Mercy  and  thy  Glory  meet. 
 
 In  whatever  thou  haft  granted,  or  whatever 
 thou  haft  deny'd  me,  thy  Beneficence  has  been 
 mingled  with  every  Difpenfation ;  thou  haft  not 
 taken  the  Advantage  of  my  Follies,  nor  been 
 fevere  to  my  Sins ;  but  haft  remember'd  my 
 Frame,  and  treated  me  with  the  utmoft  In- 
 dulgence.   Glory  be  to  thy  Name  for  ever. 
 
 XXIII.    Redeeming  Lave. 
 
 ALmighty  Love,  the  Theme  of  every 
 heavenly  Song !  Infinite  Grace,  the 
 Wonder  of  Angels!  forgive  a  mortal  Tongue 
 that  attempts  thy  Praife  -,  and  yet  fliould  Man 
 be  filent,  the  mute  Creation  would  find  a  Voice 
 to  upbraid  him. 
 
 But  oh !  in  what  Language  fliall  I  Ipeak  ? 
 with  what  Circumftance  ftiall  I  begin  ?  fliall 
 I  roll  back  the  Volumes  of  Eternity,  and 
 begin  with  the  glorious  Defign  that  deter- 
 mined Man's  Redemption  before  the  Birth 
 of  Time,  before  the  Confines  of  Creation 
 were  fix'd. 
 
 Infinite 
 
124       Devout  Exercises    XXIIL 
 
 hifinite  Years  before  the  Day^ 
 Or  Heavens  began  to  roll. 
 
 Shall  I  fpeak  in  general  of  all  the  Na- 
 tions of  the  Redeemed?  or,  to  excite  my  own 
 Gidwitude,  iTiaii  1  confider  myfelf,  my  worth- 
 lefs  felf,  included  by  an  eternal  Decree  among 
 the  Number  of  thofe  whofliouldhear  of  a  Re- 
 deemer's Name,  and  be  mark'd  out  a  Partaker 
 of  that  immenfe  Privilege  ?  Before  the  Foun- 
 dation of  the  Hills  were  laid,  the  gracious 
 Defign  was  formed,  and  the  blefled  Plan  of 
 it  fchemed  out  before  the  Curtains  of  the  Sky 
 were  fpread. 
 
 Lord  !  what  is  Man  ?  what  am  I  ?  what 
 is  all  the  human  Race,  to  be  thus  regarded  ?  O 
 narrow  Thoughts,  and  narrower  Words !  here 
 confefs  your  Defedls^  thefe  are  Heights  not 
 to  be  reached  by  you.     Adorable  Meafures  of 
 infinite  Clemency!    unfo^rchable  Riches  of 
 Grace  !  with  what  Aftonifliment  do  I  furvey 
 you !  I  am  fwallowed  and  loft  in  the  glorious 
 Immenfity.     All  hail,   ye  divine  Myfteries, 
 ye  glorious  Paths  of  the  unfearchable  Deity  ! 
 let  me  adore  tho*  I  can  never  exprefs  you. 
 
 Ye  t  fliould  I  be  filent,  Heaven  and  Earth, 
 nay,  Hell  itfelf  would  reproach  me :    The 
 
 Damn'd 
 
XXIIL      of  deHt  ART.         125 
 
 Damn'd  themfelves  would  call  me  ungrateful, 
 fhould  t  fail  to  celebrate  that  Grace  whofe 
 Lofs  they  are  for  ever  lamenting;  a  Lofs 
 that  leaves  them  for  ever  defperate  and  un- 
 done. 'Tis  this  Grace  which  tunes  the 
 Harps  of  Heaven,  and  yields  them  an  im- 
 mortal Subjed:  of  Harmony  and  Praife.  The 
 Spirits  of  juft  Men  made  perfed:  fix  their 
 Contemplations  here  j  they  adore  the  glorious 
 Myftery,  and  while  they  fing  the  Wonders 
 of  redeeming  Love,  they  afcribe  fublime  and 
 livfng  Honours  to  him  that  fits  on  the  Throne^ 
 and  to  the  Lamb  for  ever.  And  infinitely 
 worthy  art  thou,  O  Lord,  to  receive  the 
 grateful  Homage :  Who  ihall  not  praife  and 
 magnify  thy  !  lame  ?  Who  fhall  deny  the  Tri- 
 bute of  thy  Glory  ? 
 
 BiTT,  alas!  what  can  mortal  Man  add  to 
 thee?  what  can  Nothingnefs  and  Vanity 
 give  ?  We  murmur  from  the  Duft,  and  at- 
 tempt thy  Praife  from  the  Depths  of  Mifery  ^ 
 yet  thou  doft  condefcend  to  hear  and  liften  to 
 our  broken  /iccents ;  amidft  the  Hallelujahs 
 of  Angels  our  Groans  afcend  to  thee,  our 
 Complaints  reach  thee  :  From  the  Height  of 
 thy  Happinefs,  and  from  the  Exaltations  of 
 eternal  Glory,  thou  h^ft  a  Regard  to  Man, 
 poor,    wretched  Man!    thou  receivefl   his 
 
 Homage 
 
126     Devout  Ej^ercises     XXIV. 
 
 Homage  with  Delight;  his  Praifes  mingle  with 
 the  Harmony  of  Angels,  nor  interrupt  the  fa- 
 cred  Concord.  Thofe  Natives  of  Heaven, 
 thofeMorning-ftars  fing  together  in  their  hea- 
 venly Beatitudes,  nor  difdain  to  let  the  Sons  of 
 Earth  and  Mortality  join  with  them  in  cele- 
 brating the  Honours  of  Jefus,  their  Lord  and 
 ours :  To  him  be  every  Tongue  devoted,  and 
 let  every  Creature  for  ever  praife  him.  Amen. 
 
 XXIV.     Pleading  for  Pardo7i    and 
 
 Holinefs. 
 
 IMmortal  Spring  of  Life^  the  Fountain  of 
 all  Exiftence,  the  Firft  and  Laft,  without 
 beginning  of  Days,  or  end  of  Tears ;  before  the 
 Heavens  were  created  thou  waft,  and  fhalt 
 remain  unchanged  while  they  wax  old  and 
 decay.  Thou  art  infinitely  blefs'd  in  thy  felf, 
 thy  Glory  admits  of  no  Addition  ;  the  Praifes 
 of  Angels  cannot  heighten  thy  Happinefs,  nor 
 the  Blafphemies  of  Hell  dimlnifli  it.  Thou 
 can'ft  do  every  thing,  and  thy  Power  finds 
 no  Obftacle.  Thou  madcfi  Heaven  and  Earth, 
 the  Sea  and  the  Fountains  of  Water  ;  thou  doft 
 according  to  thy  Wilji  in  the  Armies  of  Hea- 
 ven, anda?no72g  the  Inhabitants  of  the  Earth  ; 
 
 thoic 
 
XXIV.      of  the  Heart.  127 
 
 thou  holdejl  the  Waters  in  the  Hollow  of  thy 
 Hand,  and  fneafure/i  out  the  Heavens  with  a 
 Span  :  Thou  comprehendeft  the  Duji  of  the 
 Earth  in-  a  Meafure,  and  weighefl  the  Moun- 
 tains in  Scale Sy  and  the  Hills  in  a  Balance  z 
 Thou  coverji  thyfelf  with  Light ^  as  with  a 
 Garmejit,  and  art  furrounded  with  inacceffiblc 
 Splendour:  Thou  art  glorious  in  Holinefs,  fear- 
 ful in  Praifes ;  the  Heavens  are  not  clean  in 
 thy  Sight,  but  thou  chargeji  thine  Angels  with 
 Folly  :  What  then  is  Man,  that  drinks  in  Ini- 
 quity like  Water  ?  What  is  Man,  that  thou 
 art  mindful  of  him  -,  or  the  Son  of  Man,  that 
 thou  doft  thus  vifit  hifn  ?  Tis  becaufe  thou 
 art  good,  and  thy  Mercy  endureth  for  ever  ; 
 Mercy  is  thy  prevaihng  Attribute.  Thou 
 art  compaffionate,  and  infinitely  gracious, 
 and  haft  fully  manifefted  thy  Love  and  Bene- 
 ficence to  the  Race  of  Man  in  the  glorious 
 Methods  of  our  Redemption  from  everlafting 
 Bondage  and  Death  by  thy  Son  Jefus. 
 
 Therefore  with  the  loweft  Reverence, 
 and  moft  humble  Gratitude,  I  defire  to  prof- 
 trate  my felf  before  thee,  acknowledging  it  my 
 greateft  Honour,  and  undeferv'd  Privilege,  to 
 approach  the  Lord,  and  bow  myfelf  before 
 the  high  God;  I  that  am  unworthy  to  utter 
 thy  tremendous  Name,  or  once  to  Hft  up  my 
 
 Eyes 
 
i:28       Z)^'W/^/ Exercises     XXIV. 
 
 Eyes  to  Heaven.  To  my  own  Confufion,  I 
 here  confefs  I  have  abus'd  the  Mercy  w^hich 
 I  now  implore,  and  injured  that  Goodnefs 
 and  Forbearance  by  my  Sins  which  I  am  now 
 addreffing  myfelf  to.  I  have  forfeited  the 
 very  Benefits  I  afk,  and  defpis'd  thofe  facred 
 Privileges  which  I  am  forced  to  plead  :  I  can 
 ufe  fcarce  any  Motive  but  what  would  carry 
 in  it  my  own  Condemnation.  Shall  I  im- 
 plore thy  Mercy  by  the  gracious  Terms  of 
 the  New  Covenant,  feal'd  by  the  Blood  of 
 thy  eternal  Son  ?  alas !  that  gracious  Covenant 
 I  have  violated,  and  profan'd  its  facred  Seals : 
 I  have  finn'd  againft  the  cleareft  Light,  and 
 the  tendereft  Inftances  of  Love  :  I  have  not 
 only  broken  my  Obligations  to  thee  as  my 
 Creator;  but  the  ftronger  Engagements  of 
 thy  Adoption,  even  the  glorious  Privilege  of 
 being  admitted  into  thy  Family,  and  num- 
 ber'd  among  the  Children  of  God. 
 
 But  ftill  thofe  very  Circumftances  that 
 aggravate  my  Guilt,  exalt  thy  Mercy;  here 
 the  Freenefs  and  Magnificence  of  thy  Grace 
 willdifplay  itfelf;  here  thou  wilt  anfwer  the 
 indulgent  Title  of  a  Father  in  its  tendereft 
 Extent ;  I  have  no  Sins  too  great  for  infinite 
 Clemency  to  pardon.  Thou  art  God,  and 
 not  Man ;  and  as  the  Heavens  are  high  above 
 I  the 
 
XXIV.     of  the  H'^A'kt.  11(y 
 
 the  Earth,  fo  high  are  thy  Ways  of  Com- 
 paffion  above  all  human  Methods. 
 
 I  DARE  not  fet  Bounds  to  thy  Goodnefsj 
 nor  affirm  that  thus  far,  and  no  farther,  di- 
 vine Patiehce  extends.  Thou  haft  pardoned 
 and  reftored  me  to  thy  Favour  too  often  for 
 me  now  to  defpair :  My  penitent  Sighs  were 
 never  rejed:ed,  nor  my  humble  Requeft  un^ 
 anfwer'd :  I  have  always  found  the  Heavens 
 open,  and  the  Throne  of  God  acceffible^ 
 thro'  the  Blood  of  a  Redeemer.  By  his  Ago- 
 ny and  bloody  Sweat,  by  his  Crofs  and  Paf- 
 fion,  by  his  painful  Death  and  glorious  Re- 
 furredtion,  I  implore  thy  Pardon :  He  has 
 made  a  full  Atonement,  and  divine  Juftice 
 will  demand  no  farther  Satisfad:ion.  To  him 
 give  all  the  Prophets  Witnefs,  that  thro  his 
 Name,  whofoever  believes  in  his  Name  Jljall 
 receive  RemiJJion  of  Sins, 
 
 O  BLESSED  Jejiis!  the  Hope  of  the  Ge7i^ 
 tiles,  the  Salvation  of  the  Ends  of  the  Earth  ; 
 the  great  Mejjiah,  the  promis'd  Saviour,  who 
 doft  anfwer  thofe  glorious  Titles  in  their  ut- 
 moft  Signification  ;  to  thee,  my  certain,  my 
 experienced  Refuge,  I  fly :  O  Son  of  God, 
 hear  me ;  O  Lamb  of  God,  who  takeft  away 
 the  Sins  of  the  World,  have  Mercy  on  me. 
 
 H  O 
 
130      Devout  Exercises     XXIV. 
 
 O  ETERNAL  Spirit,  the  promised  Com- 
 forter, come  with  all  thy  facred  Confolations: 
 Come,  and  be  as  Dew  to  the  drooping  Flow- 
 ers, as  Rain  to  the  parched  Ground  5  oh ! 
 come  with  thy  reviving  Light,  and  difpel  the 
 Darknefs  that  beclouds  my  Soul :  Break  in 
 like  the  Sun  after  a  melancholy  Night  5  one 
 Beam  of  thine  would  melt  this  frozen,  this 
 obdurate  Heart,  and  kindle  in  my  Soul  the 
 Spark  of  holy  Love :  Breathe  upon  my  cold 
 Affeftions,  and  raife  them  to  a  facred  Flame. 
 
 Searcher  of  Hearts,  from  whom  no- 
 thing is  conceal'd,  whofe  penetrating  Eyes 
 find  out  Hypocrify  in  its  darkeft  Difguife; 
 thou  knoweft  the  Defires  of  my  Soul,  and 
 art  my  impartial  Witnefs  that  I  kneel  not 
 here  for  the  Riches  and  Honours  of  the 
 World  ;  that  I  am  not  proftrate  before  thee 
 for  Length  of  Days  or  Pleafiire ;  but  that 
 'tis  the  Kingdom  of  God,  and  the  Righte- 
 oufnefs  thereof,  that  I  feek.  Give  me  not 
 my  Portion  with  the  Rich  and  Great,  but 
 let  me  have  my  humble  Lot  with  thy  Chil- 
 dren ;  let  me  bear  Contempt  and  Derifion, 
 and  fuffer  Reproach  with  the  People  of  God, 
 rather  than  enjoy  the  Pleafures  of  Sin,  which 
 are  but  for  a  Seafon. 
 
 Thy 
 
XXIV.     of  the  U^kVi^T.  131 
 
 Thy  Favour  is  the  End  of  all  my  Wifhesj 
 he  conftant  Subjed:  of  my  Prayer.  Oh !  thou 
 whofe  Ears  are  open  to  the  Wants  of  all  thy 
 Creatures,  who  heareft  the  young  Ravens 
 when  they  cry  from  their  Nefts  to  thee,  v/ho 
 giveft  the  Men  of  the  World  the  tranfitory 
 Things  they  chufe,  wilt  thou  deny  the  De- 
 fires  which  thou  thyfelf  doft  infpire  and  ap^ 
 prove  ?  O  let  me  be  fiU'd  with  that  Righte^ 
 Gufnefs  which  I  hunger  and  third  after^  and 
 be  fatisfied  with  thy  Likenefs.  Thou  can'fl: 
 not  be  diminifti'd,  whatever  Perfed:ion  thou 
 doft  communicate  to  the  Creature;  endlefs 
 Liberality  could  not  make  thee  poor. 
 
 I  ASK  not  Privileges  above  the  Capacity  of 
 my  Nature,  nor  afpire  to  the  Perfedlions  of 
 Angels :  I  only  beg  that  I  may  reach  thofe 
 Heights  of  Holinefs  and  divine  Love,  which 
 Souls  inverted  with  a  mortal  Body  like  mine^ 
 and  encumbered  with  the  fame  human  Paf-* 
 fions,  have  attained.  But  in  vain  I  ftrive  to 
 imitate  thofe  bright  Examples  thou  haft  icX. 
 before  me;  without  thy  Afliftance,  all  my 
 Endeavours  will  prove  fuccefslefs.  Thou 
 knoweft  the  Frailty  of  my  Nature,  and  the 
 mighty  Difficulties  I  have  to  encounter:  I 
 have  not  only  the  Allurements  of  the  World, 
 but  all  the  Stratagems  of  Hell  to  engage  with, 
 
 H  2  and 
 
132      Devout  Exercises    XXIV* 
 
 and  a  treacherous  Heart  within,  ready  on  all 
 Occafions  to  betray  me  into  Sin  and  endlefs 
 Perdition :  O  let  my  Impotence  and  Danger 
 awaken  thy  Compaffion. 
 
 Remember  thy  former  Benignity,  O 
 Lord,  and  let  that  engage  thee  to  grant  me 
 new  Supplies  of  that  Grace  by  which  alone 
 I  (hall  prove  vidorious.  Thy  Bounty  to  any 
 of  the  Works  of  thy  Hands  muft  always 
 flow  from  the  Goodnefs  of  thy  own  Nature ; 
 for  what  Creature  can  pretend  to  merit  any 
 thing  from  thee  ?  I  would  urge  nothing  but 
 thy  own  infinite  Mercy,  when  I  entreat  thee 
 not  to  let  me  perifli  after  the  wonderful 
 Things  thou  haft  done  for  my  Soul  5  after 
 all  the  Pledges  thou  haft  given  me  of  thy 
 Love,  let  not  my  Follies  provoke  thee  to 
 forfake  me ;  but  remember  thy  Covenant, 
 and  its  gracious  Articles,  and  adt  according 
 to  thy  own  ineffable  Benignity,  which  has 
 been  the  glorious  Motive  of  every  Favour  I 
 have  received  from  thee. 
 
 XXV.  A 
 
XXV.       of  the  Hea^t.  133 
 
 XXV.  A  Tranfport  of  Gratitude  for 
 favi7tg  Mercy. 
 
 IBlefs  a  thoufand  times  the  happy  Day 
 when  firft  a  Beam  of  heavenly  Light 
 broke  in  on  my  Soul  \  when  the  Day-ftar 
 from  on  High  vifited  me,  and  the  celeftial 
 Light  began  to  dawn.  I  welcomed  its  chear- 
 ful  Luftre,  and  felt  the  facred  Influence; 
 the  Flames  of  holy  Love  awoke,  and  holy 
 Joys  were  kindled. 
 
 The  Earth  and  all  its  Pageantry  difap- 
 peared  like  Clouds  before  the  Morning-Sun : 
 The  Scenes  of  Paradife  were  open'd, —  fera- 
 phick  Pleafures  and  unutterable  Delights: 
 All  hail,  I  cry'd,  you  unknown  Joys,  you 
 unexperienced  Pleafures!  compared  to  you, 
 what's  all  I  have  relifh'd  till  now :  what's 
 earthly  Beauty  and  Harmony  ?  what's  all 
 that  Mortals  call  charming  and  attractive? 
 I  never  lived  till  now:  I  knew  no  more 
 than  the  Name  of  Happinefs  till  now :  I 
 have  been  in  a  Dream  during  all  the  Days  of 
 my  Folly  and  Vanity ;  but  now  I  awake  to 
 the  Life  of  Heaven-born  Spirits,  and  tafle 
 the  Joys  of  Angels. 
 
 H  3  XXVL 
 
N 
 
 134       Devout  Exercises    XXVL 
 
 XXVI.  Importtmate  Requejls  for  the 
 Return  of  G  o  d  to  the  SouL 
 
 THOU  great  and  glorious,  thou  invi- 
 fible  and  univerfal  Being,  art  thou 
 no  nearer  to  be  approached  ?  or  do  I  fearch 
 thee  amifs  ?  Is  there  a  Corner  of  the  Creation 
 unvifited  by  thee,  or  any  Place  exempt  from 
 thy  Prefence  ?  I  trace  thy  Footfteps  through 
 Heaven  and  Earth,  but  I  cannot  overtake  thee. 
 
 Why  do  Ifeek  thee^  if  thou  art  not  here  ? 
 Orjind  thee  not^  if  thou  art  every  where? 
 
 ^  Tell  me,  O  my  God,  and  my  All,  tell  me 
 where  thou  art  to  be,  found  ;  for  there  is  the 
 Place  of  my  Reft.  What  imaginable  Good 
 can  fupply  thy  Abfence  ?  Deprived  of  thee, 
 all  that  the  World  could  offer  would  be  hke  a 
 Jeft  to  a  dying  Man,  and  provoke  my  Aver- 
 fjon  and  Difdain.  'Tis  a  God  that  I  feek  : 
 
 My  Wifjesjtoop  not  to  a  lower  Aim  5 
 T^hou^  thou  haji  kindled  this  immortal  Flame ^ 
 Which  nothing  can  allay. 
 
 Adieu,  adieu  to  all  human  Things!  Let 
 me  find  my  God,  the  End  of  all  my  Wiflies : 
 
 Why 
 
XXVI.     of  the  Heart.  135 
 
 Why  doft  thou  keep  back  the  Face  of  thy 
 Throne  ?  why  does  the  Cloud  and  facred 
 Darknefs  conceal  thee  ? 
 
 Ty&y  Voice  prodiicd  the  Seas  and  Spheres, 
 Bid  the  Waves  roll,  and  Planets  JJjine\ 
 
 But  nothing  like  thyfelf  appears 
 
 ^hrd  all  thefe  various  IVorks  of  thine. 
 
 O  THOU  fairer  than  all  the  Works  of  thy 
 Hands,  wilt  thou  ever  hide  thyfelf  from  a 
 Creature  that  loves  and  feeks  thee  with  fo  in- 
 tenfe  Defire  ?  I  appeal  to  thee,  O  Lord,  are 
 not  my  Breathings  after  thee  moft  hearty  and 
 unfeigned  ?  does  not  my  Soul  pant  after  thee 
 with  a  Fervour  which  cannot  be  extinguiflied, 
 and  a  Sincerity  which  cannot  be  difguifed  ? 
 
 For  thee  I  fine^  and  am  for  thee  undone  j 
 As  drooping  Flowers  that  want  their  Parent 
 Sun, 
 
 How  do  my  Spirits  languifh  for  thee! 
 No  Similitudes  can  exprefs  the  Vehemence 
 of  "my  Defires :  Wealth  and  Glory,  Friends 
 and  Pleafure  lofe  their  Names  compared  to 
 thee.  To  follow  thee  I  would  leave  them  all 
 behind  -,  I  would  leave  the  whole  Creation, 
 
 H  4  and 
 
136       Devmit  Exercises    XXVL 
 
 and  bid  the  Fields  and  fparkling  Skies  adieu. 
 Let  the  Heavens  and  Earth  be  no  more, 
 while  thou  endureft  for  ever,  I  can  want  no 
 Support.  My  Being  itfelf,  with  all  its  Bleffed- 
 nefs,  depends  intirely  on  thee. 
 
 Place  me  far  from  the  Bounds  of  all 
 Creation,  remote  from  all  Exiftence  but  thy 
 own ;  in  that  ineffable  Solitude  let  me  be  loft, 
 let  me  expatiate  there  for  ever,  let  me  run 
 the  endlefs  Rounds  of  Blifs  5  —  but,  alas  !  I 
 flatter  myfelf  in  vain  with  Scenes  of  unattain- 
 able Happinefs.  I  will  fearch  thee  then,  where 
 I  hope  thou  mayft  be  found,  I  caft  my  Eyes 
 to  the  bright  Regions  above,  and  almoft  envy 
 the  happy  Beings  that  fee  thy  Face  unveil'd  : 
 I  fearch  thee  in  the  flow'ry  Meadows,  and 
 liften  for  thee  among  the  murmuring  Springs : 
 Then,  filent  and  abftradled  from  human 
 Things,  I  fearch  thee  in  holy  Contemplation ; 
 'tis  all  in  vain  :  nor  Fields,  nor  Floods,  nor 
 Clouds,  nor  Stars  reveal  thee. 
 
 Ye  happy  Spirits,  that  meet  his  Smiles,  and 
 hear  his  Vqice,  diredl  a  mournful  Wanderer 
 while  I  feek  him  whom  my  Soul  loves,  while 
 I  figh  and  complain,  and  caft  my  languifhing 
 Eyes  to  yonder  happy  Manlions ;  fain  would 
 I  penetrate  the  ftarry  Pavilions,  and  look  thro' 
 the  feparating  Firmament :    Oh  !  that  thou 
 
 wouldft 
 
XXVI.     of  the  11^  AKT.  137 
 
 wouldft  divide  the  Clouds,  that  thou  wouldft 
 rend  the  Heavens,  and  give  me  one  Glimpfe 
 of  thy  Glory  !  that  thou  wouldft  difplay  thy 
 Beauty,  and  in  the  Midft  of  thefe  earthly 
 Scenes  of  amuling  Vanity,  give  me  one  Mo^ 
 mentis  Interval  of  celeftial  Bleffednefs. 
 
 One  Look  of  Mercy  from  thy  Eye^ 
 
 One  Whifper  of  thy  Voice^ 
 Exceed  a  "whole  Eter?iity 
 
 Employed  in  Qarnal  foys. 
 
 Cou'd  I  the  fpacious  Earth  command^ 
 
 Or  the  more  boundlefs  Sea^ 
 For  07ie  dear  Hour  at  thy  Right-hand 
 
 Id  give  them  both  away. 
 
 I F  Things  were  put  into  juft  Balances,  and 
 computed  aright,  for  the  firft  Moment  of  this 
 Satisfaction  I  am  ready  to  fay.  The  whole 
 Creation  would  be  cheaply  loft  :  How  gladly 
 would  I  refign  all  for  fuch  a  Blifs.  Adieu  to 
 human  Things ;  let  me  find  my  God,  the  End 
 of  all  my  Wifhes :  'Tis  he  whora  I  feek,  'tis 
 he  alone  can  fatisfy  my  infinite  Defires.  Oh ! 
 why  doft  thou  withdraw  ?  why  thus  long 
 conceal  thyfelf  ?  where  doft  thou  retire  ?  nor 
 Earth,  nor  Heaven  reply  to  my  repeated  Calls. 
 
 Let 
 
138       Devout  Exercises    XXVL 
 
 Let  me  invoke  thee  by  every  gracious  Ti- 
 tle, My  God,  and  the  God  of  my  Fathers : 
 From  one  Generation'  to  another  thou  haft 
 been  our  Dwelling-place ;  the  Claim  has  de- 
 fcended  from  Age  to  Age  ;  thy  Covenant 
 has  been  eftablifh'd  w^ith  us,  and  thy  Faith- 
 fulnefs  remains  unblemi(h*d.  Oh !  forget 
 not  thy  Covenant,  forget  not  the  Bleffings 
 cntail'd  on  me  j  forget  not  the  Prayers  and 
 Tears  by  w^hich  my  pious  Anceftors  have 
 engaged  thy  Mercy  for  me,  forget  not  their 
 Vows  and  folemn  Dedication  of  me  to  thee  : 
 Oh!  recal  thy  antlent  Favours,  and  renew 
 thy  former  Mercy  to  a  Family  which  has 
 been  thine  in  a  Succeffion  of  Ages. 
 
 Let  me  invoke  thee  now  by  a  nearer  Pro- 
 priety :  My  Covenant  God,  my  Father,  and 
 my  Friend !  if  by  all  thofe  tender  Names  I 
 have  ever  known  thee,  forget  me  not.  By 
 thofe  facred  Engagements,  O  Lord,  I  intreat 
 thy  Return.  If  all  thy  paft  Favours  were  real, 
 if  all  was  waking  Blifs,  and  not  a  gay  Delu- 
 fion,  O  reftore  my  Heaven  again.  Life  of  my 
 Soul,  Light  of  my  Eyes,  return  ;  Come  and 
 bring  all  thy  facred  Confolations  \  once  again 
 let  me  experience  thofe  holy  Joys  that  thy 
 Prefence  imparts  \  once  again  let  me  hear  thy 
 Voice,  and  once  again  be  blefl  with  thy  Smiles. 
 
 Oht 
 
XXVI.     of  the  He  AKT.  139 
 
 Oh  !  hear,  and  to  my  longing  Eyes 
 ■    Rejlore  thy  wonted  Light  5 
 And  fuddenlyy  or  I  Jhall  Jleep 
 In  everlajling  Night, 
 
 Blessed  Saviour,  in  thee  we  behold  the 
 Face  of  Gop  as  a  reconciled  Father  5  and 
 doft  thou  withdraw  thyfelf  ?  O  how  wel- 
 come will  thy  Returns  be  ?  How  like  the 
 Breakings  of  immortal  Day  will  thy  Prefence 
 chear  me?  How  dearly  fliall  I  prize  my 
 Happinefs  ?  How  fearful  (hall  I  be  of  every 
 thing  that  would  offend  thee  ?  How  joyful  in 
 the  bleffed  Difcovery  and  Poffeffion  of  thy 
 Love !  rd  whifper  my  Blifs  to  the  lift'ning 
 Streams  and  Groves : 
 
 Td  carve  our  PaJJion  on  the  Barky 
 
 And  every  wounded  T^ree 
 Shall  dr  op  y  and  bear  fome  my  flick  Mark 
 
 That  Jesus  died  for  me. 
 
 The  Swains  fljall  wonder  when  they  read 
 
 InfcriVd  on  all  the  Grove, 
 That  Heaven  itfelf  came  down  and  bled 
 
 To  win  a  Mortal's  Love, 
 
 But 
 
I40       Devout  Exercises    XXVL. 
 
 But  why  do  I  flatter  myfelf  with  thefe  de- 
 lightful Scenes  ?  I  find  thee  abfent  ftill :  I 
 mourn  and  complain  as  one  unpity'd  :  What 
 is  Life  while  thou  art  abfent  ?  Oh !  return  and 
 blefs  me  with  thy  Prefence,  thou  who  know- 
 eft  my  Diftrefs,  and  art  acquainted  with  my 
 fecret  Cares.  Thou  who  art  the  Witnefs  of 
 my  Midnight  Sighs,  and  doft  hear  when  at 
 the  dawning  Day  I  call  thee  s  but  ftill  thou 
 anfwereft  not,  and  feemeft  deaf  to  my  Pray- 
 ers. I  am,  'tis  true,  a  worthlefs  Wretch ;  but 
 vile  as  I  am,  thou  haft  in  thy  immenfe  Com- 
 paflion  brought  me  into  Covenant  with  thee : 
 My  Beloved  is  rnine^  and  I  am  his. 
 
 He  is  my  Suriy  thd  he  refufe  to  jhine ; 
 
 T!hd  foJ"  a  Moment  he  depart^ 
 I  dwell  for  ever  on  his  Hearty 
 For  ever  he  on  mine. 
 
 Nothing  can  break  the  facred  Union; 
 but  for  this  Confidence  I  were  undone  5  but 
 for  this  Beam  of  Hope  I  were  loft  in  eternal 
 Darknefs.  Why  art  thou  difqiiieted^  O  my 
 Soul^  and  why  art  thou  caji  down  within  ?ne  ? 
 Hope  in  Gody  for  I  J  hall  yet  praife  him  for  the 
 Light  of  his  Countenance,  I  fhall  yet  welcome 
 
 his 
 
XXVL      of  de  Keakt.         14.1 
 
 his  Return,  I  (hall  yet  hear  his  chearing  Voice,   - 
 and  meet  his  favourable  Smiles. 
 
 But  why,  O  my  God,  this  long Sufpence  ? 
 Why  do  thefe  Intervals  of  Night  and  Dark- 
 nefs  abide  upon  me,  and  torment  my  Heart 
 fo  long  ?  Wilt  thou  deny  a  Blifs  fo  eafily 
 granted  ?  I  afk  not  more  than  is  lav^ful  for 
 Mortality  to  wifh :  I  afk  not  the  Vifions  of 
 Angels  here  below ;  nor  the  Beatitudes  of  per- 
 fedled  Spirits :  I  afk  but  what  thou  hafl  bid 
 me  feek,  and  given  me  Hopes  to  obtain :  I  afk 
 that  facred  Fellowihip,  that  ineffable  Commu- 
 nion with  which  thou  favourefl  thy  Saints. 
 
 Oh  !  let  me  hear  thofe  heavenly  Whilpers 
 that  give  them  the  Foretafles  of  immortal 
 Pleafures :  Let  me  be  fenfible  of  thofe  di- 
 vine Approaches  that  kindle  celeflial  Ardor 
 in  their  Souls :  Let  me  meet  thofe  Beams  that 
 darken  all  mortal  Beauty  :  Let  me  enjoy,  at 
 this  earthly  Diflance,  thofe  Smiles  that  are 
 the  Blifs  of  Angels  in  Heaven.  Tho'  'tis  but 
 darkly,  and  afar  off,  yet  let  me  feel  their  In- 
 fluence 'y  'twill  brighten  the  PafTage  of  Life, 
 it  will  diredt  me  thro'  its  Mazes,  and  gild 
 its  rough  and  gloomy  Paths:  'Twill  raife 
 the  Flames  of  facred  Love,  it  will  waken 
 the  divine  Principle  within  me,  and  fet  it  a 
 glowing  thro'  all  my  Powers.    I  abandon, 
 
 Ifhall 
 
142      Devout  Exercises    XXVIL 
 
 I  fhall  forget  the  Vanities  below,  and  the 
 Glories  of  the  World  will  be  no  more.  But 
 while  thou,  O  my  God,  hideft  thy  Face,  I 
 lofe  my  Sun,  I  languifli  and  die  :  Yet  to  thee 
 I  will  lift  up  my  Eyes,  to  thee  I  lift  up  my  Soul 
 
 Ccme^  Lord,  mid  never  from  me  go ; 
 
 This  World's  a  darkfom  Place : 
 I  find  710  Pleafure  here  below 
 
 When  thou  dojl  veil  thy  Face.     • 
 
 XXVIL  Breathing  after  God,  and 
 weary  of  the  World. 
 
 ^n^IS  no  mean  Beauty  of  the  Groimd 
 That  has  allurd  my  Eyes ; 
 
 I  faint  beneath  a  Jiobler  Wound^ 
 Nor  Love  below  the  Skies, 
 
 I F  Words  can  reach  the  Heights  of  Love 
 and  Gratitude,  let  me  pour  but  the  fecret  Ar- 
 dour of  my  Soul ;  O  let  it  not  offend  thy 
 Greatnefs,  that  Duft  and  Vanity  adores  and 
 loves  thee.  If  thou  hadft  given  me  other  Ca- 
 pacities, and  formed  any  thing  more  fuitable 
 to  my  WiQies,  I  might  have  found  a  lower 
 
 Happi- 
 
XXVII.     of  the  Heart.  143 
 
 Happinefs,  and  been  content  with  fomething 
 below  the  infinite  Deity ;  but  the  fcanty 
 Creation  affords  nothing  to  fatisfy  me,  and 
 I  follow  thee  by  a  divine  Inftind:  and  mere 
 Neceflity  of  Nature.  ^ 
 
 M  Y  Life  is  ufelefs,  and  my  Being  inCg- 
 nificant  without  thee :  My  Reafon  has  no 
 proper  Employment ;  Love,  the  nobleft  Paf- 
 fion  of  my  Soul,  has  no  Objedl  to  anfwer  its 
 Dignity.  I  am  reduced  to  abfolute  Poverty ; 
 my  Nature  is  entirely  ruined,  I  am  loft,  eter- 
 nally loft,  undone,  and  abandoned  to  Defpair, 
 if  I  am  deprived  of  thee.  There  can  be  no 
 Reparation  made  for  an  infinite  Lofs;  no- 
 thing can  be  inftead  of  God  to  my  Soul. 
 
 I  HAVE  willingly  renounced  all  Things  elfe 
 for  thy  fake :  All  the  Sentiments  of  Tender- 
 nefs  and  Delight,  that  my  Soul  ever  feels  for 
 any  earthly  Objed:,  is  mere  Indifference,  com- 
 pared to  my  Love  for  thee  ;  and  it  grows  into 
 Hatred  when  that  Objedl  ftands  as  thy  Rival 
 or  Competitor.  This  is  the  conquering,  the 
 fuperior  Flame  that  draws  in  and  fwallows 
 up  all  the  other  Ardours  of  my  Nature.  My 
 Engagements  with  all  terreftrial  Things,  are 
 broken ;  the  Names  of  Father,  of  Brother, 
 or  of  Friend,  are  no  more  :  Abftraded  from 
 thee,  thefe  tender  Titles  give  me  neither  Coa- 
 
 fiden'ce, 
 
144      Devout  Exercises    XXVIL 
 
 fidence,  nor  Joy,  and  are  mere  infignificant 
 Names,  but  as  thou  doft  give  them  an  Em- 
 phafis  \  they  are  nothing  at  all  without  thee  \ 
 and  with  thee,  what  finite  Good  can  be  an 
 Addition  ? 
 
 7he  Soul  can  hold  no  more^  for  God  is  all^ 
 He  only  equals  its  capacious  Grafp^ 
 He  only  overfills  to  Spaces  infinite. 
 
 Thou  art  my  God,  and  I  have  enough  5 
 my  Soul  is  fatisfied,  I  am  entirely  at  refti 
 Divide  the  vain,  the  perilling  Creation  to  the 
 miferable  Wretches  that  afk  no  other  Portion  i 
 Let  them  unenvy'd  poflefs  the  Honours,  and 
 Riches,  and  Pleafures  of  the  World  -,  with 
 a  lavifli  Hand  divide  them  aWay :  Thefe 
 Things  are  but  as  the  Duft  of  the  Balance  to 
 the  happy  Soul  that  knows  what  the  Light 
 of  thy  Countenance  imports.  After  that 
 there  can  be  no  Relifli  left  for  the  low  De- 
 lights of  Mortality. 
 
 Lofi  in  the  high  Ejijoymeiits  of  thy  Love^ 
 What  glorious  Mortal  could  my  Envy  move  ? 
 
 You  ineffable  Deleftation^  of  divine  Love, 
 let  me  have  no  Sentiment  of  Pleafure  left 
 
 but 
 
XXVII.     of  the  Hear  t-  145 
 
 but  for  you.  My  God  revealing  his  Glories 
 and  his  Graces  in  "Jefus  Chriji  his  Son,  is  fuf- 
 licient  for  my  eternal  Entertainment. 
 
 What  if  all  former  Ideas  of  vilible 
 Things  were  wiped  from  my  Soul  ?  what  if  I 
 had  no  Imagination,  no  Memory,  no  Traces 
 left  of  any  thing  but  the  Joys  I  have  found 
 in  thy  Prefence,  and  the  Affurance  of  thy 
 everlafting  Favour  ?  thofe  are  the  only  paft 
 Moments  I  recal  with  Pleafure,  and  oh !  let 
 all  the  vaft  Eternity  before  me  be  fpent  in 
 thefe  Satisfaftions. 
 
 Vanish,  ye  terreflrlal  Scenes !  flyaway, 
 ye  vain  objedls  of  Senfe !  I  refign  all  thofe  poor 
 and  limited  Faculties  by  which  you  are  en- 
 joy'd ;  let  me  be  infenfible  to  all  your  Im* 
 preffions,  if  they  do  not  lead  me  to  my  God. 
 Let  Chaos  come  again,  and  the  fair  Face  of 
 Nature  become  an  univerfal  Blank :  let  her 
 glowing  Beauties  all  fade  away,  and  thofe  di- 
 vine Charaders  {he  v/ears  be  efFac'd,  I  fhall 
 yet  be  happy  ^  the  God  of  Nature,  and  the 
 Originalof  all  Beauty  is  my  God. 
 
 What  if  the  Sun  were  extinguifh'd  in 
 the  Skies,  and  all  the  etherial  Lamps  had 
 burnt  out  their  golden  Flames,  I  fliall  dwell 
 in  Light  and  immortal  Day,  for  my  God  will 
 be  ever  with  me.     When  the  Groves  (hall  no 
 
 I  more 
 
14^      Devout  Exercises  XXVIL 
 
 more  renew  their  Verdure^  nor  the  Fields  and 
 ValUes  boaft  any  longer  their  flowry  Pride ; 
 when  all  thefe  lower  Heavens,  and  this  Earth 
 are  mingled  in  univerfal  Ruin,  and  thefe  mate- 
 rial Images  of  things  are  no  more ;  I  {hall  fee 
 irew  Regions  of  Beauty  and  Pleafure  forever 
 opening  themfclvcs  in  the  divine  Eflence  with 
 all  their  original  Glories. 
 
 But  oh  !  how  various,  how  boundlefs, 
 how  tranfporting  will  the  Profpeft  be  ?  oh  ! 
 when  flaall  I  bid  adieu  to  Phantoms  and  De- 
 lufions,  and  converfe  with  eternal  Realities  r 
 When  fliall  I  drink  at  the  Fountain  Head  of 
 cffential  Life  and  BlelTednefs  \ 
 
 and  theUy 
 
 "'  O  "what? — But  q/k  ?20t  of  the  To?igiiesofMeny 
 '■''  For  A7igels  ccrnnot  tell, — let  it  fuffice^ 
 *'  T!hyfelf\  my  Soiil^JJdalt feel  thy  own  full  Joys  y 
 '^  Aiid  hold  themfijl  for  ever. 
 
 O  H  !  break  my  Fetters,  -  for  I  mult  be 
 gone. — Bring  my  Soul  out  of  Prifon  ;  I  am 
 llraiten*d  ;  the  whole  Creation  is  too  narrow 
 for  me ;  I  ficken  at  this  Confinement,  and 
 groan  and  pant  for  Liberty.  How  fweet  are 
 the  Thoughts  of  Enlargement  ?  My  Soiil  is 
 already  on  the  Wing,  and  pra<ftifes  imaginary 
 
 Flights : 
 
XXVir.     of  de  Hear  t.  147 
 
 Flio-hts :  I  feem  to  reach  the  Heaven  of  Hea- 
 vens, where  God  himfelf  refides.  It  is  good 
 for  me  to  be  here.— — 
 
 But  ah !  howfoon  the  Clouds  of  mortal  Senfe 
 Arife,  a?id  veil  the  charming  Vyion? 
 
 Alas!  what  do  I  here  in  this  wafte  and 
 dreadful  Wildernefs  ?  This  difmal  Region^ 
 v/here  our  Dehghts  are  vanifliing,  and  the 
 very  Glimpfes  of  future  Felicity  we  enjoy  are 
 fo  foon  over-fliaded,  and  furrounded  with  real 
 Horrors  ?  Alas !  what  do  \  here,  wafting  that 
 Breath  in  Sighs  and  endlefs  Complaints,  that 
 was  given  me  to  blefs  and  praife  the  infinite 
 Creator  ?  Alas  !  what  do  I  here,  among 
 Strangers  and  Enemies,  in  this  wild  unhof- 
 pitable  Place,  far  from  my  Home,  and  all  the 
 Objeds  of  my  folid  Delight  ? 
 
 My  V/ipes,  Hopes,  my  Pleafures,  aiid  my  Love^ 
 My  Thoughts,  and  nobleji  Paffions  are  above. 
 
 What  do  I  here  in  the  Dominions  of 
 Death  and  Sin,  in  the  Precinfts  and  Range  of 
 the  Powers  of  Darknefs  ?  Here  they  lay  their 
 Toils,  and  fet  their  fatal  Snares ;  but.  Lord, 
 what  Part  have  they  in  me  ?  I  have  bid  defi- 
 ance to    the   Powers    of  Darknefs  in  thy 
 
 I  2  Strengths 
 
148     Devout  Exercises     XXVIL 
 
 Strength,  and  renounced  my  Share  in  the  Va- 
 nities of  the  World,  I  am  a  Subjeft  of  ano- 
 ther Kingdom,  and  dare  not  enter  into  any 
 Terms  of  Peace  and  Amity  with  the  irrecon- 
 cileable  Adverfaries  of  God  and  my  Soul,  which 
 inhabit  thefe  treacherous  and  finful  Regions. 
 ^he  Friendflnp  of  this  Wo7'ld  is  Ewnity  with 
 God,  Death  and  Deftrudion  are  in  its  Smiles ; 
 I  ftand  on  my  Guard,  and  am  every  Mo- 
 ment in  danger  of  Surprize :  Oh !  when  will- 
 my  Deliverance  come  from  on  high?. 
 
 When,  my  Soul^ 
 
 0  whenfjall  thy  Rcleafefroin  cumhWous  Flejh 
 
 Fafs  the  great  Seal  of  Heaven  ?  What  happy 
 Hour 
 
 Shall  give  thy  Thoughts  a  loofe  tofoar  and  trace 
 The  intelleBual  World?- 
 
 What  glorious  Scenes  fliall  open  when: 
 once  this  mortal  Partition  falls,  when  thefe 
 V/alls  of  Clay  fcall  totter  and  fink  down  inta 
 Duft  ?  Ye  Waters  of  Life,  ye  Torrents  of 
 immortal  Pleafure,  how  impetuoufly  will  you- 
 then roll  in  upon  me,  and  fwell  and  fill  up 
 all  the  Capacities  of  Joy  in  my  Nature? 
 Every  Faculty  fhall  then  be  fiU'd,  and  every 
 Wiih   fliall    end    in   unutterable  Fruition. 
 
XXVIL      ^///j^  He  ART.  149 
 
 When  I  awake  into  immortal  Light,  IJhallbe 
 fatisfied  with  thy  Likenefs,  Thefe  exprefslefs 
 Defires  will  die  into  evcrlafting  Raptures: 
 Hope  and  languifliing  Expectation  will  be  no 
 more ;  but  prefent,  compleat,  and  unbounded 
 Satisfadlions  will  furround  me.  My  God,  my 
 God  himfelf  iliall  be  my  infinite,  my  unut- 
 terable Joy :  All  the  Avenues  of  Pleafure  fliall 
 be  open  before  me,  the  Scenes  of  Beauty  and 
 Profpeds  of  Delight.  Everlajiing  Joy  Jhall 
 be  upo?i  my  Head^  and  Sorrow  a7id  Sighing 
 Jhall  jlee  away  for  ever. 
 
 There  will  be  no  more  Intervals  of  Grief 
 and  Sin;  Sin,  that  infupportable  Evil,  that 
 worft,  that  heavieft  Burden  :  Here  the  pain- 
 ful and  deadly  Preffure  lies :  'Tis  this  that 
 hangs  as  a  Weight  on  all  my  Joys ;  but, 
 thanks  be  to  my  God,  I  can  fay,  I  lincerely 
 deteft  and  hate  this  vileft  of  Slaveries,  this 
 curfed  Bondage  of  Corruption  5  I  long  for  the 
 glorious  Liberty  of  the  Sons  of  God  3  I  groan 
 under  this  Load'of  Flefh,  this  Burden  of  Mor- 
 tality, this  Body  of  Death. 
 
 But  grant,  OLord,  I  may  with  patience 
 continue  in  well-doing,  and  at  laft  obtain 
 Glory  and  Immortality  thro'  my  Redeemer's 
 Righteoufnefs.     Sandlify  me  through  thy  word 
 
 I  3  oj 
 
150     Devout  Exercises    XXVIII. 
 
 of  Trifth  *,   remember  this  Requeft  of  my 
 glorious  Advocate. 
 
 XXVIII.  -^  Prayer  for  fpeedy  Sanc- 
 
 tijication. 
 
 OLord  God,  great  and  holy,  all-fufficient^ 
 and  full  of  Grace,  if  thou  fhouldft 
 bid  me  form  a  Wifli,  and  take  whatfoever  in 
 Heaven  or  Earth  I  had  to  afk,  it  fliould  not 
 be  the  Kingdoms  of  this  World,  nor  the 
 Crowns  of  Princes  3  no,  nor  fhould  it  be  the 
 Wreaths  of  Martyrs,  nor  the  Thrones  of  Arch- 
 angels :  My  firft  Requeft  is  to  be  m^ade  holy ; 
 this  is  my  higheft  Concern,  Rectify  the  Dif- 
 orders  Sin  has  made  in  my  Soul,  and  renew 
 thy  Image  there ;  let  me  be  fatisfy'd  with 
 thy  Likenefs.  Thou  haft  compafs'd  my  Paths 
 with  Mercy  in  all  other  RefpecSts,  and  I  am 
 difcontented  with  nothing  but  my  own  Heart; 
 becaufe  it  is  fo  unlike  the  Image  of  thy  Holi- 
 nefs,  and  fo  unfit  for  thy  immediate  Prefence. 
 
 Permit^  me  to  be  importunate  here,  O 
 blefled  God,  and  grant  the  Importunity  of 
 rny  Willies  •,  let  me  be  favour'd  with  a  era- 
 
 *  John   17. 
 
 clous 
 
XXVIIL     of  the  H  ^.  A  R  T.         151 
 
 clous  and  fpeedy  Anfvver,  for  I  am  dying 
 while  I  am  fpeaking  :  The  very  Breath  with 
 which  I  am  caUing  upon  thee,  is  carrying 
 away  a  Pai't  of  my  Life :  This  Tongue  that  is 
 now  invoking  thee,  mufl  fliortly  be  iilent  in 
 the  Grave:  Thefe  Knees  that  are  bent  to  pay 
 thee  Homage,  and  thefe  Hands  that  are  nov( 
 lifted  to  the  Moft  High  God  for  Mercy,  muft 
 fliortly  be  mould'ring  to  their  original  Duftj 
 Thefe  Eyes  will  foon  be  clos'd  in  Death, 
 which  are  now  looking  up  to  thy  Throne  for 
 a  Bleffing.  Oh  !  prevent  the  flying  Hours 
 with  thy  Mercy^  and  let  thy  Favour  out-ftrip 
 the  hafty  Moments. 
 
 Tkou  aat  unchanged,  v/hilc  rolling  Ages 
 pafs  along  5  but  I  am  decaying,  with  every 
 Breath  I  draw  :  My  whole  allotted  Time  to 
 prepare  for  Heaven  is  but  a  Point,  compared 
 with  thy  infinite  Duration.  The  Shortnefs  and 
 Vanity  of  my  prefent  Being,  and  the  Impor- 
 tance of  my  eternal  Concerns,  join  together 
 to  demand  my  utmoft  Sollicitude,  and  give 
 Wings  to  my  warm.eft  Wifhes.  Before  I  can 
 utter  all  my  prefent  Defires,  the  hafty  Oppor- 
 tunity perhaps  is  gone,  the  golden  Minute 
 vanifh'd,  and  the  Seafon  of  Mercy  has  taken 
 its  everlafling  Flight. 
 
 I  4.  Oh  ! 
 
iS2    Devout  Exercises    XXVIIL 
 
 O  H  !  God  of  Ages,  hear  me  fpeedily,  and 
 grant  my  Requefl  while  I  am  yet  fpeaking, 
 my  frail  Exiftencewill  admit  of  no  Delay 
 anfvver  me  according  to  the  Shortnefs  of  my 
 Duration,  and  the  Exigence  of  my  Circum- 
 ftances.  MyBafinefs,  of  high  Importance 
 as  it  is,  yet  is  limited  to  the  prefent  now, 
 thepaffing  Moment,  for  all  the  Powers  on 
 Earth  cannot  promife  me  the  next. 
 
 Let  not  my  preffing  Importunity  there- 
 fore offend  thee^  my  Happinefs,  my  ever- 
 lafting  Happinefs,  my  whole  Being  is  con- 
 cerned in  my  Succefs:  As  much  as  the  En- 
 joyment of  God  himfelf  is  worth,  is  at  flake. 
 
 Thou  knoweft,  O  Lord,  what  Qualifi- 
 cations w^ill  fit  me  to  behold  thee  5  thou 
 knoweft  in  what  I  am  defeiftive  ;  thou  canfl 
 prepare  my  Soul  in  an  inflant,  to  enter  into 
 thy  holy  Habitation  :  I  breathe  now,  but  the 
 next  Moment  may  be  Death  5  let  not  that 
 fatal  Moment  come  before  I  am  prepared. 
 The  fame  creating  Voice  that  faid.  Let  there 
 be  Light,  and  there  was  Light,  can  in  the 
 fame  Manner  purify  and  adorn  my  Soul,  and 
 make  me  fit  for  thy  own  Prefence  ;  and  my 
 Soul  longs  to  be  thus  purified  and  adorned. 
 P  Lord,  delay  not,  for  every  Moment's  In« 
 teryal  is  a  Lofs  to  m.e,  and  may  be  a  Lofs 
 
 unfpeak- 
 
XXVIIL     of  then^AVi r.        i ^f 
 
 unfpeakable  and  unrepairable.  Thy  delay 
 cannot  be  the  leaft  Advantage  to  thee ;  thy 
 Power  and  thy  Clemency  are  as  full  this 
 prefent  Inftant,  as  they  will  be  the  next, 
 and  my  Time  as  fleeting,  and  my  Wants  as 
 preffing. 
 
 Remember,  O  eternal  God,  my  loft  Time 
 is  for  ever  loft,  and  my  wafted  Hours  will 
 neverreturn,  my  neglefted  Opportunities  can 
 never  be  recalled  -,  to  me  they  are  gone  for 
 ever,  and  cannot  be  improved ;  but  thou  canft 
 change  my  finful  Soul  into  Holinefs,  by  a 
 Word,  and  fet  me  now  in  the  Way  to  ever- 
 lafting  Improvement. 
 
 O  LET  not  the  Spirit  of  God  reftrain  itfelf, 
 but  blefs  me  according  to  the  Fulnefs  of  thy 
 own  Being,  according  to  the  Riches  of  thy 
 Grace  in  Chnjl  ye/us,  according  to  thy  infi- 
 nite unconceivable  Love  manifefted  in  that 
 glorious  Gift  of  thy  beloved  Son,  wherein 
 the  Fulnefs  of  the  Godhead  was  contained : 
 'Tis  thro'  his  Merit  and  Mediation  I  humbly 
 wait  for  all  the  unbounded  Bleffings  I  want 
 QX  alk  for. 
 
 2L2i.i2i.e 
 
.  xsi      Devout  Exercises    XXIX, 
 
 XXIX.   Gratitude  for  early  a?td  pe- 
 culiar Favours. 
 
 LET  me  trace  back  thy  Mercy,  O  my 
 God,  from  the  firft  early  Dawn  of  Life, 
 and  blefs  thee  for  the  Privileges  of  my  Birth, 
 that  it  was  not  in  the  Lands  of  Darknefs, 
 where  no  Ray  of  the  Gofpel  had  ever  darted 
 its  Light ;  where  the  Name  of  a  Saviour  never 
 had  reached  my  Ears,  nor  the  tranfporting 
 Tidings  of  Redemption  from  eternal  Mifery 
 had  never  blefs'd  my  Soul. 
 
 But  how  fhall  I  exprefs  my  Gratitude  for 
 that  Grace  which  ordain'd  my  Lot  in  this 
 happy  Land,  one  of  the  Iflands  of  which  it 
 was  long  fince  prophefied,  they Jhould  fee  thy 
 Glory ^  and  trufi  in  thy  Name  ?  God  has  en- 
 larged  Japhet,  even  the  Iflands  of  the  Sea,  and 
 made  him  to  dwell  in  the  'Tents  of  Shem,  in  the 
 Inheritance  of  Abraham,  I  have  my  De- 
 fcent  from  the  Gentiles^  who  were  once 
 Strangers  to  the  Covenant  of  Grace ^  Aliens 
 from  the  Com?nonwealth  o/'Ifrael  3  but  are  now 
 brought  nigh  by  the  Blood  of  fprinkling. 
 Jefus^  the  great  Peacemaker,  hath  brought 
 both  near  to  God,  and  to  each  other, 
 
 I   BLESS 
 
XXIX.     ^///5^  Heart;  t^^ 
 
 I  BLESS  thee  with  all  my  Powers,  for  the 
 Privilege  of  my  defcent  from  pious  Ancrf- 
 tors  ',  that  thou  haft  been  their  Dwelling- 
 place  from  Generation  to  Generation,  and 
 haft  not  take?2  thy  Loving- kindncfs  from  their 
 Seed,  norfuferd  thy  Faithfuhiefs  to  fail. 
 
 Thou  haft  extended  thy  Mercy  to  me  the 
 laft  and  leaft  of  all  my  Father's  Houfe,  un- 
 worthy to  wipe  the  Feet  of  the  meaneft  of 
 the  Servants  of  my  Lord  -,  and  yet  by  an  abr 
 folute  Kdi  of  Goodnefs  I  am  brought  into 
 thy  Family,  and  numbered  with  the  Children 
 of  God.  Even  fo  it  has  feem'd  good  in  thy 
 Sight,  who  art  gracious  to  whom  thou  wilt 
 be  gracious. 
 
 I  MIGHT  have  been  a  Veflel  of  Wrath,  a 
 Trophy  to  thy  Juftice^  inftead  of  a  Monu- 
 ment of  thy  Mercy  :  How  unfearchable  thy 
 Ways!  how  uncontroU'd  and  free  !  Thou 
 didft  regard  me  in  my  low  Eftate,  in  more 
 than  my  original  Guilt  and  Mifery ;  for  I  had 
 improved  the  wretched  Stock,  and  been  a  vo- 
 luntary, as  well  as  a  natural  Slave  to  Sin  and 
 Peath. 
 
 From  this  ignominious  Slavery,  thou,  my 
 great  Redeemer,  haft  ranfomed  me,  and 
 brought  me  into  the  glorious  Liberty  of  the 
 Sons  of  God  :  I  was  a  Stranger,  and  thou 
 
 diift 
 
"t^S      Devout  ExEKCisEs     XXlX 
 
 didft  take  me  in ;  naked,  and  thou  haft 
 clothed  me  with  the  fpotlefs  Robes  of  thy 
 ownRighteoufnefs;  I  was  hungry,  and  thou 
 didft  feed  me;  thirfty,  and  thou  didft  give 
 me  to  drink  of  the  Fountain  of  Life. 
 
 What  am  I,  O  Lord,  and  what  is  my 
 Father's  Houfe,  that  thou  haft  dealt  thus  gra- 
 cioufly  with  me,  in  entring  into  an  everlaft- 
 ing  Covenant,  fign'd  and  feaPd,  even  fenfibly 
 feaFd  to  my  Soul  by  the  Witnefs  of  the  Spir 
 rit  ?  Lord,  why  me  rather  than  many  that 
 were  Companions  of  my  early  Vanities  and 
 Folly  ?  Whence  were  the  Motives  drawn  but 
 from  thy  fovereign  Pleafure?  How  many 
 are  pafs'd  by,  that  could  have  done  thee  more 
 Service,  and  returned  a  warmer  Acknowledge 
 ment  to  thy  diftinguiftiing  Bounty  ? 
 
 Y  E  Spirits  of  juft  Men  made  perfecfl,  ye 
 ranfom'd  Nations,  triumphant  above,  in- 
 ftrudt  me  in  the  Art  of  celeftial  Eloquence  j 
 tell  me  in  what  Strains  of  facred  Harmony 
 you  exprefs  your  Gratitude  for  this  glorious 
 Redemption,  while  in  exalted  Raptures  you 
 fing  to  him  that  lovd  and  wajlfd  you  in  his 
 own  Bloody  and  made  you  Kifigs  and  Priejls  to 
 God. 
 
 XXX, 
 
XXX.       of  the  Hear  t.  1 57 
 
 XXX.  A/firing  after  the  Vifion  of 
 God  i?t  Heaven. 
 
 jBefeech  thee^  JJ:ew  me  thy  Glory  :  It  was  a 
 Mortal  in  a  State  of  Frailty  and  Imperfec- 
 tion that  made  this  bold,  but  pious  Requeft  5 
 which  I  repeat  on  different  Terms :  Since  none 
 can  fee  thy  face  and  live,  let  me  die  to  behold 
 it.  This  is  the  only  Requeft  I  have  to  make^ 
 and  this  will  I  feek  after,  that  I  may  behold 
 the  Beauty  of  the  Lord :  not  as  I  have  feen  it 
 in  thy  Sandluary  below ;  but  in  full  Perfedlion 
 and  Splendour,  as  thou  art  (cQn  by  Seraphs 
 and  Cherubs,  by  Angels,  and  Archangels, 
 and  the  Spirits  of  juft  Men  made  perfedl. 
 
 O  M  Y  God,  forgive  my  Importunity ; 
 Thou  haft  commanded  me  to  love  thee  with 
 all  my  Heart,  my  Soul,  my  Strength,  and 
 haft  by  thy  Spirit  kindled  the  facred  Flame 
 in  my  Breaft :  From  this  rifes  my  prefent  Im- 
 patience; from  hence  the  Ardour  of  my  De- 
 fires  fpring.  Can  I  love  thee,  and  be  fatisfied 
 at  this  Diftance  from  thee  ?  Can  I  love  thee, 
 and  not  long  to  behold  thee  in  perfedt  Ex- 
 cellence and  Beauty  ?  Is  it  a  Crime  to  prefs 
 forward  to  the  End  for  which  I  was  created  ? 
 
 All 
 
\ 
 
 158      Devout  ExERtisEs       XXX. 
 
 All  my  Wifhes  and  my  Hopes  of  Happinefs 
 terminate  in  thee. 
 
 Does  not  the  thirfty  Traveller  pine  for 
 fome  refrefliing  Stream  ?  would  not  theWeary 
 be  at  reft,  or  the  wretched  Captive  be  free  ? 
 and  fliall  not  my  thirfty,  weary,  captive  Soul 
 long  for  Refrefhment,  Liberty,  and  Reft  ?  I 
 am  but  a  Stranger,  a  Pilgrim  here,  and  have 
 no  abiding  Place ;  this  is  not  my  Reft,  my 
 Home ;  and  yet  if  thou  haft  any  Employ- 
 ment for  me,  tho'  the  meaneft  Otfice  in  thy 
 Family,  I  will  not  repine  at  my  Stay. 
 
 But,  O  Lord,  thou  haft  no  need  of 
 fuch  worthlefs  Service  as  I  can  pay  thee ;  thy 
 Angels  are  Spirits^  thy  Minifters  Flames  of 
 Fire  >  thouiands  of  thoufands  ftand  before 
 thee,  and  ten  thoufand  times  ten  thoufand 
 minifter  unto  thee ;  they  attend  thy  Orders, 
 and  fly  at  thy  Command.  O  deliver  me  from 
 this  Burden  of  Mortality,  and  I  will  ferve  thee 
 with  a  Zeal  as  pure  and  active  as  theirs. 
 
 I  CAN  fpeak  of  thy  Loving-kindnefs  to 
 the  Children  of  Men  in  a  very  imperfed:  Man- 
 ner i  but  then  I  will  join  with  th^  celeftial 
 Quire,  in  praifing  thee,  and  rehearfe  to  liften- 
 ing  Angels  what  thou  haft  done  for  my  Soul 
 Here  i  have  a  thoufand  Interruptions  from 
 the  delightful  Work,    a  thouilind  cold  and 
 
 dark- 
 
XXXI.       of  de  He  ART.  15^ 
 
 darkfom  Intervals,  when  my  Heart  and  Tongue 
 are  both  untun'd,  a  thoufand  neceffary  Dif- 
 tradions  that  rife  from  the  Miferies  of  Mor- 
 tality ;  but  when  thefe  Intervals  of  Grief  and 
 Sin  fliall  ceafe,  my  Soul  fhall  dwell  at 
 Eafe,  and  be  for  ever  glad,  and  rejoice  in  thy 
 Salvation. 
 
 ^' 
 
 •t#©*3®^^eg^®^(§^®@*^0-^-^*:^*^@*^# 
 
 XXXI.  y^  Surrender  of  the  Soul  to 
 
 Gorr, 
 
 Command  me  what  thou  wilt,  O  Lord, 
 give  me  but  Strength  to  obey  thee ;  be 
 thy  Terms  never  fo  fevere,  O  let  us  never 
 part.  I  refign  my  Will,  my  Liberty,  my 
 Choice  to  thee  5  I  ftand  diverted  of  the 
 World,  and  afk  only  thy  Love,  as  my  In- 
 heritance. Give  or  deny  me  what  thou  wilt 
 I  leave  all  the  Circumftances  of  my  future 
 Time  in  thy  Hands  :  Let  the  Lord  guide  me 
 continually ;  here  I  am,  do  with  me  what 
 feemeth  good  in  thy  Sight,  only  do  not  fay 
 ^hoii  baft  no  Pleafiire  in  me. 
 
 Let  me  not  live  to  diihonour  thee,  to 
 bring  a  Reproach  on  thy  Name,  to  profane 
 he  Bleed  of  the  Sen  el  Gcd,  r;r.d  gritve  the 
 I  Spirit 
 
\ 
 
 1 60     hevouf  Exercises     XXXIL 
 
 Spirit  of  Grace.  O  take  not  thy  Loving- 
 kindnefs  from  me,  nor  fuffer  thy  Faithful- 
 nefs  to  fail.  Thou  haft  fvvorn  by  thy  Holinefs, 
 and  thou  wilt  not  lie  to  the  Seed  of  thy  Ser- 
 vants ^  thou  haft  fworn  that  the  Generation 
 of  the  Righteous  fliall  be  bkjfed :  Vejl  me  with 
 this  Charader,  O  my  God,  and  fulfil  this 
 Promife  to  a  worthlefs  Creature. 
 
 %%%%%%%%%%%^^%%%%%%%%%% 
 
 XXXIL  T7nijl  and  Reliance  on  the 
 divine  Promifes. 
 
 OLet  not  my  Importunity  offend  thee, 
 for  'tis  the  Importunity  of  Faith ;  'tis 
 my  ftedfaft  Belief  in  thy  Word  that  makes 
 me  perfift:  Thy  Word  and  thy  Oath,  the 
 two  immutable  things  in  which  it  is  impojfibk 
 for  God  to  Hey  give  vaQjl7^ong  Confolation, 
 
 'Tis  this  that  makes  me  prefs  forward  to 
 thy  Throne,  and  with  Confidence  lay  hold 
 on  thy  Srength,  thy  Wifdom,  and  thy  Faith- 
 fulnefs,  on  thy  Goodnefs  and  tender  Com- 
 paffion ;  thofe  glorious  Attributes  for  which 
 the  Children  of  Men  put  their  I'ruji  under  the 
 Shadow  of  thy  Wings.  Tis  thy  Glory  to  be 
 the  Confidence  of  the  Ends  of  the  Earth,  and 
 
 was^ 
 
XXVII.     of  tha  Heart.  i6i 
 
 it  was  long  fince  predidted,  That  in  thy  Najne 
 the  Gentiles  JJoould  truji. 
 
 Kind  Guardian  of  the  Worlds  our  heavenly  Aid 
 To  whom  the  Vows  of  all  Mankind  are  paid — 
 
 We  pay  thee  the  higheft  Homage,  and  exalt 
 thy  infinite  Attributes  by  Faith  and  Confi- 
 dence in  thee. 
 
 I  KNOW  that  thou  art^  and  believe  thee 
 a  Rewarder  of  them  that  diligently  feek  thee. 
 I  will  never  quit  my  Hold  of  thy  Promifes, 
 there  I  fix  my  Hopes :  I  will  not  let  a  Tittle 
 go,  nor  part  with  a  Mite  of  the  glorious  Trea- 
 fure.  I  humbly  hope  I  have  a  rightful  Claim  ; 
 thou  art  my  God,  and  tlie  God  of  my  re- 
 ligious Anceftors,  the  God  of  my  Mother,  the 
 God  of  my  pious  Father:  Dying  and  breath- 
 ing out  his  Soul,  he  gave  me  to  thy  Care,  he 
 put  me  into  thy  gracious  Arms,  and  deliver'd 
 me  up  to  thy  Protection.  He  told  me  thou 
 wouldft  never  leave  nor  forfake  me ;  he  tri- 
 umph'd  in  thy  long-experienc'd  Faithfulnefs 
 and  Truth,  and  gave  his  Teftimony  for  thee 
 with  his  lateft  Breath. 
 
 And  now,  O  Lord  God  of  my  Fathers, 
 whofe  Mercy  has  defcended  from  Age  to  Age, 
 whofe  Truth  has  remain'd  unbleniifh'd,  and 
 
 K  invio"» 
 
^ 
 
 1&2      Devout  Exercises  XXXIL 
 
 inviolable,  and  whofe  Love  remains  without 
 Decay,  O  Lord,  the  faithful  God  and  the 
 true,  keeping  Covenant  and  Mercy  to  a  thou- 
 fand  Generations,  let  me  find  that  Protedtioh 
 and  Bleffing  that  the  Prayers  of  my  dying  Fa- 
 ther engag'd  for  me  :  Now  in  the  Time  of  my 
 Diftrefs,  be  a  prefent  Help  5  and  if  thou  wilt 
 this  once  deliver  me,  thou  alone  fhall  be  my 
 future  Truft,  my  Counfellor,  and  Hope; 
 to  thee  I  will  immediately  apply  myfelf,  and 
 look  on  the  whole  Force  of  created  Nature  as 
 jinfignificant.  To  thee  I  will  devote  all  the 
 Bleflings  thou  (halt  give  me,  my  Time,  my 
 Life,  my  Whole  of  this  World's  Goods; 
 whatever  Share  thou  llialt  gracioully  allot  me, 
 fhall  furely  be  the  Lord's. 
 
 Oh  !  hearken  to  the  Vows  of  my  Diftrels, 
 and  for  thy  own  Honour  deliver  me  from 
 this  Perplexity  which  thou  knoweft,  and  re- 
 veal to  me  the  Abundance  pf  Mercy  and 
 Truth. 
 
 'TwAS  my  Dependence  on  thy  Promife 
 and  Fidelity  that  brought  me  into  this  Exi- 
 gence ;  I  ftagger'd  not  at  thy  Promifes  thro' 
 Unbelief,  but  boldly  ventured  on  the  Credit 
 of  thy  Word  :  I  took  it  for  my  Security,  and 
 can  the  Strength  of  Jfrael  repent  ?  Canft  thou 
 
 break 
 
XXXIII.     ^//y^^HEART.  163 
 
 break  thy  Covenant,  and  alter  the  thing  that 
 is  gone  out  of  thy  Mouth  ?      ^^ 
 
 O  God  of  Abraham,  God  (j/^Ifaac,  and  the 
 God  of  Jacob,  this  is  thy  Name  for  ever,  and 
 this  thy  Memorial  to  all  Generations  j  the  God 
 before  whom  my  Fathers  walked,  the  God 
 that  fed  me  all  my  Life  long  till  now,  and 
 the  Angel  that  redeemed  me  from  all  Evil, 
 blefs  me.  Let  the  God  of  Jacob  be  my  Help, 
 let  the  Almighty  blefs  me  ^  let  the  Bleflings  of 
 my  Father  prevail  above  the  BleJJifig  of  his 
 Progenitors  to  the  utmojl  Bounds  of  the  ever- 
 lafling  Hills, 
 ■  Bless  me  according  to  thy  own  Greatnefs, 
 according  to  the  unfearchable  Riches  of  thy 
 Grace  in  Ch  rift  J e fits ;  he  is  the  Spring  of  all 
 my  Hope,  in  whom  all  the  Promifes  of  God 
 are  Yea  and  Amen  ;  he  is  the  true  and  faith- 
 ful Witnefs,  and  has  by  his  Death  feal'd  the 
 divine  Veracity,  and  is  become  Surety  for  the 
 Honour  and  Falthfulnefs  of  the  Moft  High 
 God.     To  this  alfo  the  Holy  Ghoft,  the  Spi- 
 rit of  Truth  bears  witnefs. 
 
 Oh  !  great  Jehovah,  Father,  Son  and 
 Holy  Ghoft,  the  Lord  God  Omnipotent,  hear 
 and  grant  my  Requeft,  for  the  Glory  of  thy 
 mighty  Name,  that  Name  which  Saints  and 
 Angels  blefs  and  love :  Let  thy  Perfedions  be 
 
 K  2  mani- 
 
164      'Devout  Exercises  XXXIEf. 
 
 manifeft  to  the  Children  of  Men;  let  them  fay^^ 
 there  is  a  God  that  judgeth  in  the  Earth ;  let 
 them  confefs  thou  doft  keep  thy  Covenant 
 with  the  Seed  of  thy  Servants,  that  thy  Righ- 
 teoufnefs  is  from  Age  to  Age,  and  thy  Salva- 
 tion fhall  never  be  abolifh'd  \  let  them  fee  and' 
 acknowledge,  that  in  the  Fear  of  the  Lord  is 
 ftrong  Confidence,  and  his- Children  have  a 
 Place  of  Refuge, 
 
 Vjijloaken  as  the  facred  Hilly 
 And  firm  as  Mountains  be  y 
 
 Firm  as  a  Rock  the  Soul  Jhall  reji 
 That  leansy.  O  Lordy  on  thee. 
 
 Memorandum, 
 
 This  Ad  of  Faith  in  God  was  fiilly  an- 
 fwer'd,  and  I  leave  my  Teftimony,  that  the. 
 Name  of  the  Lord  is  a  firong  Toiver^  and  he 
 knoweth  them  that  put  their  Trufi  in  him^ 
 
 XXXIIL   Application  to    the   divi^te 
 
 Truth. 
 
 'Owever  intricate  and  hopelefs  my  prefent 
 .  Diftrefs  may  be  to  human  Views,  why 
 
 fhould  1  limit  the  Almighty  ?  or  why  fhould 
 
 the 
 
XXXV.     of  then^AVi  T.  1 65 
 
 the  Holy  One  of  ^^^/ limit  himfelf?  Nature 
 and  Neceffity  are  thine  ;  thou  fpeakeft  the 
 Word,  and  it  comes  to  pafs ;  no  Obftacle  can 
 oppofe  the  Omnipotence  of  thy  Will,  nor 
 make  thy  Defigns  inefFedual. 
 
 Is  thy  Hand  at  all.  fhorten'd  fince  the  glo- 
 rious Period^  when  thy  mighty  Power,  and 
 thy  ftretched  Arm  form'd  the  Heavens  and 
 Earth  ;  when  thefe  fpacious  Skies  were  fpread 
 at  thy  Command,  and  this  heavy  Globe 
 fix'd  on  its  airy  Pillars  ? 
 
 The  firong  Fotindafwis  of  the  Earth 
 
 Of  old  by  thee  were  laid; 
 Thy  Hands  the  beauteous  Arch  of  Heaven 
 
 With  wondrous  Skill  hath  made. 
 
 And  thefe  Jhall  wax  old  as  ^  Garment  ^  as  a 
 Vefture  fait  thou  change  them,  and  they  fall 
 be  changd'y  but  fhouldftthou,  like  thefe,  de- 
 cay, where  were  the  Hopes  of  them  that 
 confide  in  thee  ?  If  in  all  Generations  thy 
 Perfedions  were  not  the  fame,  what  Confo- 
 iation  could  the  Race  of  Men  draw  from  the 
 antient  Records  of  thy  wonderfu  1  Works  ? 
 Why  are  we  told,  thou  didji  divide  the  Sea^ 
 to  make  a  Path  for  thy  People  thro  the  mighty 
 Waters  j  that  thou  didft  rain  Bread  from  Hea- 
 
 K  3  ^^^» 
 
i66     jD^'t;^/^/ Exercises   XXXIIL 
 
 ven^  and  diffolve  the  flinty  Rock  in  chryftal 
 Rills  to  give  thy  chofen  Nation  Drink  ? 
 
 Thou  art  he  that  diftinguifhed  Noah 
 in  the  univerfal  Deluge,  and  preferv'd  the 
 floating  Ark  amidft  Winds,  and  Rains,  and 
 tumultuous  Billows. 
 
 'TwAS  thy  proteding  Care  that  led  Abra- 
 ham  from  his  Kindred  and  his  native  Coun- 
 try, and  brought  him  lafely  to  the  promised 
 Land. 
 
 Thou  didfl  accompany  Jacob  in  his  Jour- 
 ney to  Padan-ar an,  and  give  him  Bread  to 
 eat,  and  Raiment  to  put  on,  till  gready  in- 
 creased in  Subftance :  He  returned  to  his  Fa- 
 ther's Houfe,  he  wreftled  for  a  BlefTing,  he 
 wreilled  with  the  Almighty,  and  prevailed. 
 
 With  Jofeph  thou  w^enteft  down  into 
 Egypt,  and  didft  deliver  him  out  of  all  his 
 Adverfities,  till  he  forgat  his  Sorrovvs,  and  all 
 the  Toil  of  his  Father's  Houfe. 
 
 Thou  didft  remember  thy  People  in  the 
 Egyptian  Bondage,  and  look  with  pitying 
 Eyes  on  their  Affliftion  ;  and  after  four  hun- 
 dred and  thirty  Years,  on  the  very  Day  thou 
 hadft  promised,  didfl  releafe  and  bring  them 
 out  with  Triumph  and  Miracles.  Thy  Pre- 
 fence  went  with  them  in  a  Pillar  of  a  Cloud 
 |:,y  Piy,  and  a  protecting  Fire  by  Night : 
 
 Thy 
 
XXXIII.     of  the  Heart.        167 
 
 Thy  conquering  Hand  drove  out  great  and 
 potent  Nations,  and  gave  them  an  entire  Pof- 
 feffion  of  the  Land  promised  to  their  Fathers: 
 Nor  didft  thou  fail  in  the  leaft  Circumftance 
 of  all  the  good  things  thou  hadft  promifed. 
 
 What  a  Cloud  of  Witneffes  ftand  on 
 Record?  Jojhiia  and  Gideon,  Jeptha  and 
 Sampfon^  who  thro*  Faith  obtained  Promifes. 
 
 Thou  didft  command  the  Ravens  to  feed 
 thy  holy  Prophet;  and  at  the  Word  of  a  Pro- 
 phet, didft  fuftain  the  Widovi^'s  Family  with 
 a  Handful  of  Meal. 
 
 Th  ou  didft  walk  with  the  three  Hebrews 
 in  the  fiery  Furnace :  Thou  waft  prefent  with 
 Daniel  in  the  Lion's  Den  to  deliver  him,  be- 
 caufe  he  trufted  in  thee. 
 
 In  what  Inftance  has  the  Prayer  of  Faith 
 heen  rejecfted?  Where  were  the  Righteous 
 forfaken?  Who  can  charge  God  without 
 charging  him  fooliftily  ?  What  Injuftice  has 
 been  found  in  the  Judge  of  all  the  Earth  ? 
 •  His  glorious  Titles  have  ftood  unblemifli'd 
 from  Generation  to  Generation ;  nor  can  any 
 of  his  Perfections  decay,  or  rolling  Years 
 make  a  Change  on  the  Antient  of  Days. 
 
 Are  not  his  Words  clear  and  diftind:, 
 without  a  double  Meaning,  or  the  leaft  De- 
 ceit ?  Are  they  not  fuch  as  may  juftly  fecure 
 
 K  4  my 
 
1 68    Devout  Exercises    XXXIIL 
 
 my  Confidence  ?  Such  as  would  fatisfy  me 
 from  the  Mouth  of  Man,  unconftant  Man, 
 whofe  Breath  is  in  his  Noflrils,  and  his  Foun- 
 dation in  the  Duft,  unftable  as  Water,  and 
 jfleeting  as  a  Shadow  ?  And  can  I  fo  flowly 
 affent  to  the  Words  of  the  Moft  High  ?  Shall 
 I  truft  impotent  Man,  that  has  neither  Wif- 
 dom  nor  Might  to  accomplifh  his  Defigns, 
 that  cannot  call  the  next  Breath  or  Motion 
 his  own,  nor  promile  himfelf  a  Moment  in 
 all  Futurity  ?  Can  I  refl  on  thefe  feeble  Props, 
 and  yet  tremble  and  defpond  when  I  have  the 
 Veracity  of  the  eternal  God  to  fecure  and 
 fupport  me  ? 
 
 I  KNOW  he  will  not  break  his  Covenant, 
 nor  fuffer  his  Faithfulnefs  to  fail :  I  dare  at- 
 teft  it  in  the  Face  of  Earth  and  Hell,  I  dare  - 
 ftake  my  All  for  Time  and  Eternity  on  this 
 glorious  Truth  ;  a  Truth  which  Hell  cannot 
 blemiih,  nor  all  its  Malice  contradidl. 
 
 Exert  yourfelves,  ye  Powers  of  Dark- 
 nefs,  bring  in  your  Evidence,  colled:  your  In-  - 
 ftances,  begin  from  the  firft  Generations, 
 fince  the  World  was  peopled,  and  Men  be- 
 gan to  call  on  the  Name  of  the  Lord  5  when 
 did  they  call  in  vain?  When  did  the  Holy  One 
 of  Ifrael  fail  the  Expeftation  of  the  humble 
 and  contrite  Spirit  ?  Point  out  in  your  blackeft 
 
 Cha=^ 
 
XXXlll.     of  de  He AKT.         169 
 
 Charafters  the  difmal  Period,  when  the  Name 
 of  the  Lord  was  no  more  a  Refuge  to  them 
 that  trufted  in  him  ?  Let  the  Annals  of  Hell 
 be  produced,  let  them  mark  the  dreadful  Day, 
 and  diftinguiih  it  with  eternal  Triumphs. 
 
 In  vain  you  fearch ;  for  neither  Heaven^ 
 nor  Earth,  nor  Hell  have  ever  been  Witnefs 
 to  the  leaft  Deviation  from  Truth  or  Juftice : 
 The  Almighty  {hines  with  unblemifh'd  Glory^ 
 to  the  Confufion  of  Hell,  and  the  Confola- 
 tion  of  thofe  that  put  their  Truft  in  him. 
 
 On  thy  eternal  Truth  and  Honour  I  en- 
 tirely caft  my  felf  5  if  I  am  deceived,  I  am  de- 
 ceived :  Angels  and  Archangels  are  deluded 
 too  5  they,  like  me,  have  no  Dependance  be- 
 yond the  divine  Veracity  for  their  Bleffedneft 
 and  Immortality  3  they  hang  all  their  Hopes 
 on  his  Goodnefs  and  Immutability  5  if  that 
 fails,  the  celeftial  Paradife  vanifhes,  and  all  its 
 Glories  are  extindt  -,  the  golden  Palaces  fink, 
 and  the  feraphick  Thrones  muft  totter  and  fall. 
 Where  are  your  Crowns,  ye  Spirits  Elefl:  ? 
 Where  are  your  Songs  and  your  Triumphs,  if 
 the  Truth  of  God  can  fail  ?  A  mere  Poffibility 
 of  that  would  darken  the  Fields  of  Light,  and 
 turn  the  Voice  of  Melody  into  Grief  and  La- 
 pientation. 
 
 What 
 
1 70     Devout  Exercises  XXXIII. 
 
 What  Pangs  would  rife,  even  thro'  all 
 the  Regions  of  BlefTednefs,  what  Diffidence 
 and  Fear  would  {hake  the  Heart  of  every  In- 
 habitant, what  Agonies  furprize  them  all, 
 could  the  Word  of  the  moft  High  God  be 
 canceird  ?  The  Pillars  of  Heaven  might  then 
 tremble,  and  the  everlafting  Mountains  bow, 
 the  celeflial  Foundations  might  be  mov'd 
 from  their  Place,  and  that  nobleft  Structure 
 of  the  Hands  of  God  be  Chaos^  and  eternal 
 Emptinefs. 
 
 But  for  tvtxjuji  and  true  are  thy  Ways^ 
 thou  King  of  Saints ;  blejjed  are  all  they  that 
 put  their  Trujl  in  thee ;  for  thou  art  a  certain 
 Refuge  in  the  Day  of  Diftrefs,  and  under 
 the  Shadow  of  thy  Wings  I  will  rejoice.  My 
 Soul Jh all  make  her  boaft  in  the  Lordy  andtri- 
 nmph  in  his  Salvation :  I  caWd  on  him  in  my 
 JDiJlrefs^  and  he  has  deliver  d  me  from  all  my 
 Fears, Hallelujah. 
 
 Here  I  difmifs  my  carnal  Hope, 
 
 My  fond  Dejires  recall ; 
 I  give  my  mortal  Inter  efts  up. 
 
 And  make  my  God  my  AIL 
 
 XXXIV, 
 
XXXIV.     of  the  Heart.  ^      171 
 
 XXXIV.  Glory  to  Got>  for  Salvation 
 by  Jesus,  and  his  Blood. 
 
 LE  T  me  give  Glory  to  God  before  I  die, 
 and  take  Shame  and  Confufion  to  my- 
 felf.  I  afcribe  my  Salvation  to  the  free  and 
 abfolute  Goodnefs  of  God.  Not  by  the 
 Strength  of  Reafon,  or  any  natural  Indi-- 
 nation  to  Virtue,  hnnby  the  Grace  of  C-d  I 
 am  what  lam.  O  my  Redeemer,  be  the  V  .rlto- 
 ry,  be  the  Glory  thine.  I  expedt  eternal  Life 
 and  Happinefs  from  thee,  not  as  a  D  ?bt,  but 
 a  free  Gift,  a  promifed  Ad:  of  Bounty.  How 
 poor  would  my  Expeftations  be,  if  I  only 
 looked  to  be  rewarded  according  to  thofe 
 Works  which  my  own  Vanity,  or  the  Par- 
 tiality of  others,  have  called  Good^  and  which, 
 if  examined  by  the  divine  Purity,  would  prove 
 but  fpecious  Sins?  Asfuch  I  renounce  them: 
 Pardon  them,  gracious  Lord,  and  I  afk  no 
 more ;  nor  can  hope  for  that,  but  thro'  the 
 Satisfadion  which  hath  been  made  to  divine 
 Juftice  for  the  Sins  of  the  World. 
 
 O  Jesus,  my  Saviour,  what  Harmony 
 dwells  in  thy  Name !  celeftial  Joy,  immortal 
 JyifeisintheSound. 
 
 Siveet 
 
172     Devoui  Exnvtciszs     XXXIV. 
 
 Sweef  Name  !  in  thy  each  Syllable 
 A  thoufand blefi d  Arabia's  dwells 
 Mount  aim  of  Myrrh  ^  a?2d  Beds  of  Spices^ 
 And  ten  thoufand  Paradifes. 
 
 LEt  Angels  fet  this  Name  to  their  golden 
 Harps ;  let  the  Redeemed  of  the  Lord  for 
 ever  magnify  it. 
 
 O  MY  propitious  Saviour,  vs^here  were  my 
 Hopes  but  for  thee  ^  How  defperate,  how 
 undone  were  my  Circumftances  ?  I  look  on 
 myfelfinevcry  Viewlcan  take  with  Horror, 
 and  Contempt,  I  was  born  in  a  State  of  Mi- 
 fery  and  Sin,  and  in  my  beft  Eftate  am  alto- 
 gether Vanity.  With  the  utmoft  Advantages 
 I  can  boaft,  I  (brink  back,  I  tremble  to  ap- 
 pear before  unblemifli'd  Majefty.  O  thou 
 in  whofe  Name  the  Gentiles  truft,  be  my  Re- 
 fuge in  that  awful  Hour.  To  thee  I  come, 
 my  only  Confidence  and  Hope.  Let  the 
 Blood  of  iprinkling,  let  the  Seal  of  the  Co- 
 venant be  on  me.  Cleanfe  me  from  my  origi- 
 nal Stain,  and  my  contrafted  Impurity,  and 
 adorn  me  with  the  Robes  of  thy  Righte- 
 oufnefs,  by  which  alone  I  expedt  to  ftand  juf- 
 tlfied  before  infinite  Juftice  and  Purity. 
 
 O  ENTER 
 
XXXV.     ofdeUEA^r.         173 
 
 O  ENTER  not  into  Judgment  with  me, 
 for  the  beft  Axftions  of  my  Life  cannot  bear 
 thy  Scrutiny  J  fome  fccret  Blemifh  has  ftain'd 
 all  my  Glory.  My  Devotion  to  God  has  been 
 mingled  with  Levity  and  Irreverence;  my 
 Charity  to  Man  with  Pride  and  Oftentation- 
 Some  latent  Defedl  has  attended  my  beft  Ac- 
 tions, and  thofe  very  Things  which  perhaps 
 have  been  highly  efteem'd  by  Men,  have  de- 
 fcrv'd  Contempt  in  the  Sight  of  God. 
 
 When  I  furvey  the  wond'rous  Crofs 
 On  which  the  Prince  of  Glory  dyd\ 
 My  richejl  Gain  I  count  my  Lofs, 
 And  pour  Contempt  on  all  my  Pride. 
 
 "  Forbid  it.  Lord,  that  I Jhould  boajl. 
 Save  in  the  Crofs  of  Ch  rist,  my  God:. 
 All  the  vain  things  that  charm  me  mojl 
 Ifacrifice  them  to  thy  Bloods 
 
 ^0'^'S^0^*:^@*^*3«»*^i28rva|f.^.S|»^^^S^^^^ 
 
 AfriL  30.  173^. 
 
 XXXV,  ^  Review  of  divine  Mercy 
 
 a7td  Faithfulnefs. 
 
 I  Am  now  fetting  to  my  Seal  that  God  Is 
 true,  and  leaving  this  as  my  laft  Tefti- 
 
 mony 
 
;i74      Devout  Exercises    XXXV. 
 
 mony  to  the  divine  Veracity.  I  can  from 
 numerous  Experiences  alTert  his  Faithfuhiefs, 
 and  witnefs  to  the  Certainty  of  his  Promifes. 
 ^he  Word  of  the  Lord  is  tryd^  and  he  is  a 
 Buckler  to  all  thofe  that  put  their  Truji  in 
 him. 
 
 0  comCy  all  you  that  fear  the  hordy  and  I 
 will  tell  you  "what  he  has  done  for  my  Soul,  I 
 will  afcribe  Righteoifnefs  to  my  Maker ^  and 
 leave  my  Record  for  a  People  yet  unborn, 
 that  the  Generation  to  come  may  rife  up  and 
 praife  him. 
 
 Into  whatever  Diftrefs  his  wife  Provi- 
 dence has  brought  me,  I  ha,ve  called  on  the 
 Lord,  and  he  heard  me,  and  delivered  me 
 from  all  my  Fears ;  I  trufted  in  God,  and  he 
 faved  me.  Oh !  let  my  Experience  ftand  a 
 Witnefs  to  them  that  hope  in  his  Mercy  ;  *  let 
 it  be  to  the  Lord  for  a  Praife  and  a  Glory. 
 
 1  KNOW  not  where  to  b^gin  the  Recital  of 
 thy  numerous  Favours.  Thou  haft  hid  me 
 in  the  Secret  of  thy  Pavilion,  from  the  Pride 
 of  Man,  and  from  the  Strife  of  Tongues, 
 when  by  a  tlioufand  Follies  I  have  merited 
 Reproach:  Thou  haftgracioufly  protedledme, 
 when  the  Vanity  of  my  Friend:,  or  the 
 Malice  of  my  Enemies  might  have  ftain'd  my 
 Reputation  :  Thou  haft  covered  me  with  thy 
 
 Feathers, 
 
-XXXV.     of  tie  He  ART.  tyc 
 
 Feathers,  and  under  thy  Wings  have  I  truft- 
 ed:  Thy  Truth  has  been  my  Shield  and  my 
 Buckler  5  to  thee  I  owe  the  Bleffing  of  a  clear 
 and  unblemiih'd  Name,  and  not  to  my  own 
 Conducft,  nor  the  Partiality  of  my  Friends.— 
 Glory  be  to  thee,  O  Lord. 
 ^  Thou  haft  led  me  thro' a  thoufand  Laby- 
 rinths, and  enlightened  my  Darknefs.   When 
 Shades  and  Perplexity  furrounded  me,  my 
 Light  has  broke  forth  out  of  Obfcurity,'  and 
 my   Darknefs  been    turn'd  into  Noon-day. 
 Thou  haft  been  a  Guide  and  a  Father  to  me' 
 When  I  knew  not  where  to  afk  Advice,  thoii 
 haft  given  me  unerring  Counfel :  The  ' Secret, 
 of  the  Lord  has  been  with  me,  and  he  ha^ 
 Jhewn  me  his  Covenant. 
 
 In  how  many  ktn  and  unfeen  Dangers 
 haft  thou  deliver'd  me  ?  How  narrow  my 
 Gratitude  ?  How  wide  thy  Mercy  ?  How  in- 
 numerable are  thy  Thoughts  of  Love  ?  How 
 infinite  the  Inftances  of  thy  Goodnefs  ?  How 
 high  above  the  Ways  and  Thoughts  of  Man  ? 
 How  often  haft  thou  fupply'd  my  Wants, 
 and  by  thy  Bounty  confounded  my  Unbelief? 
 Thy  Benefits  have  furpriz'd  and  juftly  re- 
 proach my  Diffidence;  my  Faith  has  often 
 faird,  but  thy  Goodnefs  has  never  fail'd.  The 
 World  and  all  its  Flatteries  have  fail'd,  my 
 
 own 
 
176     Devout  Exercises     XXXV. 
 
 own  Heart  and  Hopes  have  faiPd,  but  thy 
 Mercy  endures  for  ever,  thy  Faithfulnefs  has 
 never  fail'd. 
 
 The  Strength  of  i/r^^/ has  never  deceived 
 me,  nor  made  me  afham'd  of  my  Confidence. 
 Thou  haft  never  been  as  a  deceitful  Brook,  or 
 as  Waters  that  fail  to  my  Soul. 
 
 In  Loving-kindnefs,  in  Truth,  and  in 
 very  Faithfulnefs,  thou  haft  afflidted  me :  Oh  1 
 how  unwillingly  haft  thou  feem'd  togrieve  me  ? 
 With  how  much  Indulgence  has  the  Punifli- 
 ment  been  mix'd  ?  Love  has  appeared  thro' 
 the  Difguife  of  every  Frown  :  its  Beams  have 
 glimmered  thro'  the  darkeft  Night ;  by  every 
 Affliftion  thou  haft  been  ftill  drawing  me 
 nearer  to  thy  felf,  and  removing  my  carnal 
 Props,  that  I  may  lean  with  more  AfTurancc 
 on  the  eternal  Rock. 
 
 Thy  Love  has  been  my  leading  Glory 
 from  the  firft  intricate  Steps  of  Life:  The 
 lirft  undefigning  Paths  I  trod  were  marked  and 
 guarded  by  the  Vigilance  of  thy  Love  ;  oh  ! 
 whither  elfe  had  my  Sin  and  Folly  led  me  ? 
 
 How  often  have  I  try*d  and  experienc'd 
 thy  Clemency,  and  found  an  immediate  An- 
 fwer  to  my  Prayers  ?  Thou  haft  often  li- 
 terally fulfilled  thy  Word  :  I  have  a  frefli  In- 
 ftanceof  thy  Faithfulnefs  again :  Thou  haft 
 
 made 
 
XXXV.     of  the  Hz  A  "Si  t]         177 
 
 made  me  triumph  in  thy  Goodnefs,  and  given 
 a  new  Teftimony  to  the  Veracity  of  thy  Pro- 
 mifes. 
 
 And  after  all,  what  Ingratitude,  what  In- 
 fenfibility  reigns  in  my  Heart  ?  Oh !  cancel  it 
 by  the  Blood  of  the  Covenant :  Root  out  this 
 monftrous  Infidelity  that  ftill  returns  after  the 
 fulleft  Evidence  of  thy  Truth.  Thou  haft  gra- 
 cioufly  condefcended  to  anfwer  me  in  my 
 own  Time  and  Way,  and  yet  I  am  again 
 doubting  thy  Faithfulnefs  and  Care.  Lor  J,pity 
 me,  /  believe^  O  help  my  Ufibelief,  Go  on  to 
 fuccour,  go  on  to  pardon,  and  at  laft  con- 
 quer my  Diffidence.  Let  me  hope  againft 
 Hope,  and  in  the  greateft  Perplexity  give 
 Glory  to  God  by  believing  what  my  own  Ex- 
 perience has  fo  often  ioni\A--That  the  Strength 
 of  Ifrael  will  7iot  lie  \  nor  is  he  as  Man^  that  he 
 jhoiild  repent. 
 
 While  I  have  Memory  and  Thought  let 
 his  Goodnefs  dwell  on  my  Soul.  Let  me  not 
 forget  the  Depth  of  my  Diftrefs,  the  Anguifh 
 and  Importunity  of  my  Vows :  When  every 
 human  Help  fail'd,  and  all  was  Darknefs  and 
 Perplexity,  then  God  was  all  my  Stay.  Then 
 I  knew  no  Name  but  his,  and  he  alone  knew 
 my  Soul  in  Adverfity.  Blefs  the  Lord,  O 
 my  Soul,  and  forget  not  all  his  Benefits. 
 
 L  ^ '  J^^'^^i 
 
syB       Devout  Exercises  XXXV. 
 
 ^^  Long  as  Hive  Til  blefs  thy  Name^ 
 My  King,  a7td  God  of  Love ; 
 My  Work  and  Joy  Jh  all  be  the  fame 
 In  the  bright  Worlds  above. 
 
 cc 
 cc 
 
 I  H  iiVE  yet  a  thoufand^  and  ten  thoufand 
 Deliverances  to  recount,  ten  thoufand  unafk'd- 
 for  Mercies  to  recal :  no  Moment  of  my 
 Life  has  been  deftitute  of  thy  Care  5  no  Acci- 
 dent has  found  me  unguarded  by  thy  watch- 
 ful Eye,  or  negledted  by  thy  Providence. 
 Thou  haft  been  often  found,  unfought  by  my 
 ungrateful  Heart,  and  thy  Favours  have  fur- 
 prized  me  with  great  and  unexpefted  Advan- 
 tages: Thou  haft  compell'd  me  to  receive 
 the  Bleflings  my  foolilh  Humour  defpifed, 
 and  my  corrupt  Will  would  fain  have  rejed:- 
 ed.  Thou  haft  ftopp'd  thy  Ears  to  the  De- 
 lires  which  would  have  ruined  and  undone 
 me,  when  I  might  juftly  have  been  left  to 
 my  own  Choice,  for  the  Punifhment  of  my 
 many  Sins  and  Follies.  How  great  my  Guilt ! 
 how  infinite  thy  Mercy ! 
 
 Hitherto  God  has  helpd,  and  here  I 
 fet  up  a  Memorial  to  that  Goodnefs  which  has 
 never  abandoned  me  to  the  Malice  and  Stra- 
 tagems of  my  infernal  Foes,  nor  left  me  a 
 Prey  to  human  Craft  or  Violence.  The 
 Glory  of  his  Providence  has  often  furpriz'd 
 
 me. 
 
XXXVI.  of  tM  Heart.  i  '^g 
 me,  when  groping  in  thick  Darknefs.  With 
 a  potent  Voice  he  has  faid,  Let  there  be  Lights 
 and  there  was  Light.  He  has  made  his  Good- 
 nefs  pafs  before  me,  and  loudly  proclaimed 
 his  Name,  the  Lord,  the  Lord  God,  merciful 
 and  gracious^  To  him,  be  Glory  for  even 
 Amen, 
 
 ±'Mi±^^^§ifMM^t^ 
 
 XXXVI.  Some  daily  Experiences  of 
 the  gracious    Methods    of  divine 
 Providence^    to  me    the  leaf  a7id 
 mof  unworthy  of  all  the  Servants 
 of  my  Lord. 
 
 FIRST    WEEK 
 
 * 
 
 I 
 
 EVery  Day's  Experience  reproaches  my 
 Unbelief,  and  brings  me  fome  nevs^ 
 Evidence  of  thy  Faithfulnefs.  Thou  haft 
 difpeird  my  FearSj  and^  to  the  Confufion  of 
 my  fpiritual  Foes,  thou  haft  heard  the  Voice  of" 
 my  Diftrefs.  But  a  fev^  Hours  ago  I  v^^as  trem- 
 
 *  Noie^  The  Divifion  of  thefe  Meditations  into  r<;- 
 tens  by  the  pious  Writer  feemsto  tell  us,  that  thefe  were 
 ihe  devout  Thoughts  pf  ^i^  Weeks  of  her  Life. 
 
 L  ^  bling 
 
i8o     Devout  Exercises  XXXVI. 
 
 bling  and  doubting,  if  thou  waft  indeed  a 
 God  hearing  Prayer  j  and  now  I  have  a  freih 
 Inftance  of  thy  Goodnefs,  which  with  a  grate- 
 ful Heart  I  here  record.  May  the  Senfe  of  thy 
 Benefits  dwell  for  ever  on  my  Soul. 
 
 IL 
 
 Thy  Mercies  are  new  every  Morning  ; 
 again  thou  haft  given  me  an  Inftance  of  thy 
 Truths  Itrujledin  God,  and  he  has  deliver d 
 me ;  I  "will  love  the  Lord,  becaufe  he  has  heard 
 the  Voice  of  7?iy  Supplication  \  therefore  will  I 
 call  on  him  as  long  as  Hive. 
 
 III. 
 
 As  for  God,  his  Way  is  perfedi  j  the  Word  of 
 the  Lord  is  tryd :  He  is  a  Buckler  to  all  that 
 put  their  Trufi  in  him.  He  has  punctually 
 fulfilled  the  Word  on  which  I  relied :  Blefs 
 the  Lord,  O  my  Soul. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thy  Bounty  follows  me  with  an  un- 
 wearied Courfe  5  Language  is  too  faint  to  ex- 
 prefs  thy  Praife  :  No  Eloquence  can  reach 
 the  Subjefl:.  My  Heart  is  warm  with  the 
 piousRefledion;!  look  upward,  and  filently 
 breathe  out  the  unutterable  Gratitude  that 
 melts  and  rejoices  my  Soul :  I  ftagger^d  at 
 thyPromife  thro'  Unbelief,  and  yet  thou  haft 
 gracioufly  perform'd  thy  Words.  If  we  fome- 
 
 times 
 
XXXVI.     oftieUEA^T.        i8i 
 
 times  doubt  or  faulter  in  our  Faith,  yet  he 
 abideth  faithful  who  has  promifed. 
 
 V. 
 
 With  the  Morning-Ught  my  Health  and 
 Peace  are  renew'd:  The  chearing  Influence 
 of  the  Sun,  and  the  fweeter  Beams  of  the 
 
 divine  Favour  fliine  on  my  Tabernacle.- 
 
 Lord,  why  me  ?  why  am  I  a  ranfom'd  par- 
 don'd  Sinner  ?  —  w^hy  am  I  rejoicing  among 
 the  Inftances  of  fovereign  Grace,  and  unli- 
 mited Clemency  ? 
 
 VL 
 
 I  BOASTED  in  thy  Truth,  and  thou  hafl 
 not  made  me  afliam'd  :  My  infernal  Foes 
 are  confounded,  while  my  Faith  is  crown'd 
 with  Succefs. 
 
 Oh  !  who  hath  tajled  of  thy  Clemency 
 In  greater  Meafure  and  more  oft  than  I? 
 
 VII. 
 As  the  Week  begun,  fo  it  ends  with  a  Se- 
 ries of  Mercy :  Language  and  Numbers  fail 
 to  reckon  thy  Favours,  but  this  fliall  be  my 
 eternal  Employment. 
 
 When  Nature  fails  y  afidDay  and  Night 
 
 Divide  thy  Works  no  more^ 
 
 My  ever  thankful  Soul^  O  Lord^ 
 
 Thy  Goodnefs  Jhall  adore, 
 
 L  3  SE- 
 
j82     Devout  Exercises    XXXVI, 
 
 I 
 
 SECOND   WEEK. 
 L 
 
 Have  feen  the  Goings  of  God  my  King  in 
 his  San^uary :  But  O,  how  tranfient  the 
 View !  my  fins  turned  back  thy  Clemency, 
 and  yet  I  can  celebrate  the  Wonders  of  for- 
 giving Grace. 
 
 ■1.  jL« 
 
 What  do  I  owe  thee,  O  thou  great  Prer 
 ferver  of  Men,  for  eafy  and  peaceful  Sleep, 
 for  Nights  unmolefted  with  Pain  and  Anxiety, 
 
 Thou  round  my  Bed  a  Guard  doji  keep : 
 Thine  Eyes  are  open  while  minejleep. 
 
 Not  a  Moment  Aides  in  which  I  am  un- 
 guarded by  thy  gracious  Proteftion. 
 
 III. 
 
 Thanks  be  to  God,  who  haft  given  me 
 the  Victory  thro'  the  Lord  J  ejus  Chriji.  Thou 
 haft  delivered  me  from  the  Snare  of  the  Fow- 
 ler, the  Craft  and  Malice  of  Hell,  and  kept 
 me  back  from  finning  againft  thee  :  Be  thine 
 the  Viftory  and  Praife.     Hallelujah, 
 
 IV. 
 
 O  Lord  God  of  Jfrael^  happy  is  the  Man 
 thatpiitteth  his  Truji  in  thee.  I  left  my  Bur- 
 den at  thy  Feet,  and  thpu  haft  fuftain'd  me; 
 xny  Cares  are  diffipated,  my  Defires  anfwer'd. 
 
 ■'  O  who 
 
XXXVI.     of  the  Heart.  183 
 
 O  who  is  a  God  like  unto  thee^  near  unto  all 
 that  call  unto  thee  ? 
 
 V. 
 Thy  Strength  is  manlfeft  in  Weaknefs: 
 Not  unto  me^  O  Lordy  but  to  thee  be  all  the 
 Glory, 
 
 For  ever  thy  dear  charming  Narne^ 
 
 Shall  dwell  upon  my  Tongue ^ 
 And  Jesus  and  Salvation  be 
 
 The  Theme  of  every  Song. 
 
 This  (hall  be  my  Employment  thro' 
 an  eternal  Duration  :  'Tis  that  alone  can  mea- 
 fure  my  Gratitude.  The  Lord  Jehovah  is 
 my  Strength  and  Salvation,  he  alfo  (hall  be  my 
 Song. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Every  Day's  Experience  confirms  my 
 Faith,  and  brings  a  frefh  Evidence  of  thy 
 Goodnefs.  Thou  haft  difpell'd  my  Fears, 
 and,  to  the  Confufion  of  my  fpiritual  Foes, 
 hearkened  to  the  Voice  of  my  Diftrefs. 
 
 VII. 
 
 I  WILL  love  the  Lord,  who  has  heard 
 my  Supplications.  I  made  my  boaft  in  his 
 Faithfulnefs,  and  he  has  anfwer'd  all  my 
 Expectation. 
 
 L  4  THIRD 
 
184     Z)^w^/ Exercises    XXXVL 
 
 THIRD  WEEK. 
 I. 
 
 MY  laft  Exigence  will  be  the  clofing 
 Part  of  Life.  Oh  !  remember  me 
 then,  my  God.  Thou  who  haft  led  me  hi- 
 therto, forlake  mc  not  at  laft.  Be  my  Strength 
 when  Nature  fails,  and  the  Flame  of  Life  is 
 juft  expiring ;  let  thy  Smiles  chear  that  gloomy 
 Hour :  Oh !  then  let  thy  gen  tie  Voice  whif- 
 per  Peace  and  ineffable  Confolation  to  my 
 Soul. 
 
 IL 
 In  fix  and  in  feven  Troubles  thou  haft 
 
 delivered  me,  and  been  a  Coverf  from  the  Tem^ 
 peji^  a  Hiding-place  from  the  Wind:  Hitherto 
 God  has  help'd,  and  I  have  dwelt  fecure  5  and 
 here  I  leave  a  Memorial  to  thy  Praife,  a  Wit- 
 nefs  againft  all  my  future  Diftruft  of  thy 
 Faithfulnefs  and  Truth. 
 
 III. 
 Every  Day  of  my  Life  encreafes  the 
 Sum  of  thy  Mercies :  The  rifing  and  the  fet- 
 ting  Sun,  in  its  conftant  Revolution,  can  wit- 
 nefs  the  Renewal  of  thy  Favours :  Thou  waft 
 gracioufly  prefent  in  an  imminent  Danger ; 
 by  thee  my  Bones  have  been  kept  intire^ 
 and  thou  haft  not  fufFer'd  me  to  dafh  my 
 Foot  agajnft  a  Stone^ 
 
XXXVI.       of  the  Heart.       185 
 
 IV. 
 
 Blefs  the  Lord^  0  my  Souly  and  all  that  is 
 within  me,  blefs  his  holy  Name.  Blefs  the 
 Lordy  O  my  Souly  and  forget  not  all  his  Bene- 
 fits 3  who  heals  thy  DifeafeSy  and  pardons  all 
 thy  Sins.  O  thou  the  great  Phyfician  of  my 
 Body,  as  well  as  of  my  diftemper'd  Soul, 
 thou  haft  reftor'd  and  faved  me  from  death 
 and  Hell.  Bleffed  Jefus,  thou  haft  taken  my 
 Infirmities y  and  born  my  Sicknefs ;  the  Chaf- 
 tifement  of  my  Be  ace-was  on  theey  and  by  thy 
 
 Stripes  I  am  healed. 
 
 V. 
 
 I  SUBSCRIBE  to  thy  Truths  OLord;  I 
 atteft.it  in  Contradiction  to  infernal  Malice, 
 to  all  the  hellifh  Suggeftions  that  would  tempt 
 my  Heart  to  Diffidence  and  Unbelief,  even 
 againft  repeated  Experience,  againft  the  full- 
 eft  Evidence  of  the  divine  Veracity. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Oh  !    thou,    who   never    flumbereft   nor 
 
 fleepeft,  this  Night  thy  watchful  Care  has 
 kept  me  from  a  threatning  Danger :  Thy 
 Eyes  were  open,  while  I  was  fleeping,  fecurc 
 beneath  the  Covert  of  thy  Wings. 
 
 VII. 
 Another,  and  a  greater  Deliverance  has 
 crown'd  the  Day :  I  have  found  thy  Grace  fuf- 
 ficient  in  an  Hour  of  Temptation,  thy  Strength 
 
 has 
 
i86     Devour  ExE^cisi^s     XXXVL 
 
 has  been  manifeft  in  my  Weaknefs.  Thine 
 was  the  Conqueft;  be  the  Crown  and  the 
 Glory  thine  for  ever.  By  thee  I  have  triumphed 
 over  the  Stratagems  of  Hell ;  not  unto  tne^  but 
 to  thy  NamCy  be  the  Fraife^  O  Lord. 
 
 FOURTH  WEEK, 
 I. 
 
 '^  I  ^  I S  not  one  of  a  thoufand  of  thy  Fa- 
 JL  vours  I  can  record ;  but  Eternity  is 
 before  me,  and  that  unlimited  Duration  fhall 
 be  employed  to  rehearfe  the  Wonders  of  thy 
 Grace.  Then  in  the  great  Aflembly  I  will 
 praife  thee,  I  will  declare  thy  Faithfulnefs, 
 and  tell  to  lift*ning  Angels  what  thou  haft 
 done  for  my  Soul,  even  for  me,  the  leaft  in 
 thy  Family,  unworthy  to  wipe  the  Feet  of 
 the  meaneft  of  the  Servants  of  my  Lord. 
 
 II.    ; 
 
 How  numberlefs  are  thy  Thoughts  of 
 Love  to  my  Soul!  If  I  fliould  count  them, 
 they  are  more  than  the  Sand  on  the  Shore : 
 Thou  haft  again  reprov'd  my  Unbelief,  and 
 given  me  a  new  conviftion  that  my  whole  de- 
 pendence is  on  thee :  that  fecond  caufes  are 
 nothing,  but  as  thou  doft  give  them  Efficacy: 
 All  Nature  obeys  thee,  and  is  governed  at  thy 
 Command  ^ 
 
 III. 
 
XXXVI,     ^///^^  Heart,        187 
 
 III. 
 
 O  MY  God,  I  am  again  ready  to  diftruft 
 theCj  and  call  in  queftion  thy  FaithfuU 
 nefs :  Oh !  how  deep  has  this  curfed  Weed  of 
 Infidelity  rooted  itfelf  in  my  Nature,  but 
 thou  canft  root  it  out, 
 
 IV. 
 Again  I  muft  begin  the  Rehearfal  of  thy 
 Mercies,  which  will  never  have  an  End  5  for 
 thou  doft  renew  the  Inftances  of  thy  Good^ 
 nefs  to  a  poor  ungrateful  Sinner.  Thou  haft 
 punctually  fulfilled  the  Promife  on  which  I 
 depended :  Thou  haft  granted  the  Requeft  of 
 my  Lips,  and  led  me  in  a  plain  Way  that  I 
 have  not  ftumbled. 
 
 V. 
 This  Day  I  have  received  an  unexpedled 
 Favour :  I  doubted  the  Succefs  indeed,  but 
 thou  haft  gently  rebuk'd  my  Unbelief,  and 
 convinced  me  that  all  things  are  poffible  with 
 thee,  and  that  the  Hearts  of  the  Children  of 
 Men  are  in  thy  Hands. 
 
 VI. 
 Whether  thou  doft  favour  or  afflidl  me^ 
 I  rejoice  in  the  Glory  of  thy  Attributes  in 
 whatever  Inftance  they  are  difplay'd.  Be  thy 
 Honour  advanced,  whether  in  Mercy  or  Jus- 
 tice:  I  niuft  ftill  aflert  the  Equity  of  thy 
 WayS;,    and    afcribe   Righteoufnefs  to  my 
 
 Maker 
 
i88     Devout  Exercises    XXXVL 
 
 Maker.  Yet  let  me  plead  with  thee,  O  my 
 God,  fince  Mercy  is  thy  darling  Attribute, 
 Oh!  letitnowbeexalted:  Deal  not  with  me  in 
 Severity,  but  Indulgence;  for  if  thoufliouldft 
 mark  what  is  amifs,  who  can  ftand  before  thee  ? 
 
 VII. 
 Thou  doft  heal  my  Difeafes,  and  renew 
 my  Life ;  thou  art  the  Guardian  of  my  fleep- 
 ing  and  my  waking  Hours.     Glory  to  my 
 God^  whofe  Eyes  never  flumber. 
 
 F  I  F  T  H    W  E  E  K. 
 I. 
 
 THOU  knoweft  myfecretGrief,  where  my 
 Pain  lies,  and  what  are  my  Doubts  and 
 Difficulties.  In  thy  wonted  Clemency,  OLord, 
 difpel  my  Darknefs ,  leave  me  not  to  any  fatal 
 Delufion  in  an  Affair  of  everlafting  Moment. 
 This  is  my  Hour  of  Information  and  PracSice; 
 beyond  the  Grave  no  Miftake  can  be  redify'd ; 
 ^s  the  Tree  falls,  fo  it  muft  fpr  ever  lie. 
 
 II. 
 Th  y  Goodnefs  ftill  purfues  m.e,  O  heaven- 
 ly Father,  with  an  unwearied  Courfe ;  new 
 Inftances  of  thy  Faithfulnefs  reproach  my 
 Unbelief.  I  fent  up  my  Petition  with  a 
 doubting  Heart,  and  yet  thou  haft  gracioufly 
 deign'd  to  encourage  my  weak  and  ftaggering 
 faith,  which  has  often  waver'd  and  fail'd,  even 
 in  the  View  of  the  bright^ft  Evidence  of  thy 
 Power  and  Truth,  HI, 
 
XXXVL     of  the  Heart.       189 
 
 III. 
 
 Thou  doft  feem  refolv'd  to  leave  my  Un- 
 belief without  Excufe,  by  renewing  the  glo- 
 rious Conviftion  of  thy  Clemency  and  Truth. 
 O  let  not  the  Unworthinefs  of  the  Objedl  turn 
 back  thy  Benignity  from  its  natural  Courfe. 
 
 How  many  unrecorded  Mercies  have 
 glided  along  with  my  fleeting  Moments  into 
 thoughtlefs  Silence,  and  long  Oblivion  ?  How 
 prone  is  my  ungrateful  Heart  to  forget  thy 
 Benefits,  or  [(oh !  amazing  Guilt)  to  make  an 
 ungrateful  Return  ? 
 
 V. 
 
 Oh!  never  let  my  falfe  Heart  relapfe  into 
 Diftruft  and  Unbelief  again ;  thou  haft  re- 
 buked my  Folly,  and  put  a  new  Song  of  Praife 
 into  my  Mouth:  Let  thofe  infernal  Sug- 
 geftions  vanifb,  that  would  once  objed;  againft 
 thy  oft-experienc'd  Truth.  In  this  I  would 
 ftill  triumph,  and  infult  all  the  Malice  of 
 Hell.  A  Time  will  come  when  thou  (halt  be 
 glorify'd  in  thy  Saints,*  when  thy  Truth  and 
 Faithfulnefs  fliall  appear  in  full  Splendour^ 
 when  the  Beauty  of  thy  Attributes  (hall  be 
 confpicuous,  and  clear  from  every  Blemifh 
 that  the  Impiety  of  Men,  or  the  Malice  of 
 Devils  has  charg'd  on  thy  moft  righteous  Pro- 
 vidence. 
 
 VL 
 
jgd     D^ou^  UxERQisES    XXXVt 
 
 VL 
 
 Le  t  me  ftill  affert,  that  the  Ways  of  God 
 are  perfed:  Juftice  and  Truth :  I  have  a  frelh 
 Inftance  of  thy  Goodnefs  to  boaft,  and  yet 
 my  ungrateful  Heart  is  even  now  ready  to 
 diftruft.  The  Lord  encreafe  my  Faith :  Let 
 thy  renewed  Favours  filence  my  Unbelief,  to 
 Jhew  that  the  Lord  is  upright  y  he  is  my  Rock, 
 and  there  is  no  Unrigbteoujhefs  in  him^ 
 
 VIL 
 
 Teach  me  your  Language,  yeMinifters 
 of  Light,  that  I  may  exprefs  my  Wonder  and 
 Gratitude.  O  thou,  who  canfl  explain  the 
 fecret  Meaning  of  my  Soul,  take  the  Praife 
 that  human  Words  cannot  exprefs;  accept 
 thefc  unutterable  Attempts  to  praife  thee. 
 
 SIXTH   WEEK. 
 I. 
 
 LE T  me  go  on,  O  Moft  Holy,  to  record 
 thy  Faithfulnefs  and  Truth ;  let  it  be 
 engraven  in  the  Rock  for  ever ;  let  it  be  im- 
 prefs'd  on  my  Soul,  and  impoffible  to  be  ef- 
 faced.-— What  Artifice  of  Hell  is  it  that  fo 
 often  tempts  me  to  diftruft  thee,  and  joins 
 with  my  native  Depravity  to  queftion  thy 
 Truth? 
 
 II. 
 Oh  !  may  I  never  forget  this  remarkable 
 Prefervation :  thy  gentle  Hand  fupported  me^ 
 
XXXVI.     of  the  Heart.  191 
 
 and  underneath  were  the  everlafting  Arms* 
 Thou  hajl  kept  all  my  Bones^  not  one  of  them 
 is  broken  :  Thy  Mercy  upheld  me  even  when 
 it  forefaw  my  Infenfibihty  and  Ingratitude* 
 How  does  my  Guilt  heighten  thy  Clemency  ? 
 How  wondrous  is  thy  Patience,  O  Lord,  and 
 thy  rich  Grace,  that  only  gently  rebuked  me 
 when  thou  mighteft  have  taken  fevere  Ven- 
 geance of  my  Sins  ? 
 
 III. 
 
 I  MUST  again  begin  the  Rehearfal  of  thy 
 Love.  Thou  haft  eas'd  my  Pain,  fcatter'd 
 my  Fears,  and  lengthened  out  my  Days.  Oh! 
 may  my  Being  be  devoted  to  thee :  let  it  be 
 for  fome  remarkable  Service  that  I  am  reftor'd 
 to  Health  again. 
 
 IV. 
 
 I  F I N  D  thy  Mercies  renew*d  with  my  fleet- 
 ing Days,  and  to  rehearfe  them  {hall  be  my 
 glad  Employment.  .  I  trufted  thee  with  my 
 little  Affairs,  and  thou  haft  condefcended  to 
 givemeSuccefs.  Lord,  what  is  Man,  that  thou 
 doft  thus  gracioufly  regard  him  ?  Even  my 
 Sins,  my  hourly  Provocations,  cannot  put  a 
 Check  to  the  Courfe  of  thy  Beneficence;  it 
 keeps  on  its  conquering  Way  againft  all  the 
 Oppofition  of  my  Ingratitude  and  Unbelief; 
 and  haft  thou  not  promised,  O  Lord,  it  fhall 
 run  parallel  with  my  Life,  and  meafure  out 
 my  Days  ?  V. 
 
rg2   jD^w/^/ Exercises.    XXXVL 
 
 V. 
 
 Jesus,  my  never-failing  Truft,  IcalPd  on 
 thy  Name,  and  thou  haft  fully  anfwered  my 
 Hopes :  Let  thy  Praifts  dwell  on  my  Tongue, 
 let  me  breathe  thy  Name  to  the  lall  Spark  of 
 Life.  Thou  haft  fcatter'd  my  Fears,  and  been 
 gracious  beyond  all  my  Hopes  :  My  faint  and 
 doubting  Prayers  have  not  been  rejected  j 
 but  oh  !  how  How  are  my  Returns  of  Praife, 
 how  backward  my  Acknowledgments. 
 
 VL 
 
 Never  have  I  trufted  thee  in  vain  ;  Lord, 
 increafe  my  Faith  -,  confirm  it  by  a  continued 
 Series  of  thy  Bounty  :  add  this  Favour  to  the 
 reft,  for  Faith  is  the  Gift  of  God,  an  Attain- 
 ment above  Reafon  or  Nature.  I  am  now 
 waiting  for  the  Accomplifliment  of  a  Pro- 
 mife  !  Oh !  fl:iew  me  thy  Mercy  and  Truth  ; 
 add  this  one  Inftance  to  the  reft^  and  for  ever 
 filence  the  Suggeftions  of  liell,  and  my  own 
 Infidelity.  VIL 
 
 How  rooted  is  thiscurfed  Principle  of  Un- 
 belief, that  can  yet  diftruft  thee  after  fo  many 
 recorded  Liftances  of  thy  Love  ?  How  long 
 will  it  be  e*re  my  wavering  Soul  fliall  entirely 
 confide  in  thy  Salvation  ?  Oh !  my  God,  pity 
 my  Weaknefs,  give  new  Vigour  to  my  Faith^, 
 and  let  me  take  up  my  Reft  in  thee  for  ever. 
 
 rhe    E  N  D. 
 
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