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“IT is this Series of Thought that I have endeavoured to express ' in the following Hymn, which I have composed during this my

Sickness.

I.
WHEN rising from the Bed of Death,

O'erwhelm'd with Guilt and Fear,
I see my Maker, Face to Face,
0 how shall I appear!

II.
If yet, while Pardon may be found

And Mercy may be fought,
My Heart with inward Horror shrinks,
And trembles at the Thought;

III.
When thou, O Lord, Jhalt stand disclos’d

In Majesty severe,
And fit in Judgment on my Sobel,
O bow ball I appear!

IV.
But thou hast told the troubled Mind,

Who does her Sins lament,
The timely Tribute of her Tears

Shall endless Woe prevent.

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V.'
Then see the Sorrows of my Heart,
Ere
yet

it be too late;
And hear my Saviour's dying Groans,
To give those Sorrows Weight.

VI.
For never snall my Soul despair

Her Pardon to procure,
Who knows thine only Son has dy'd
To make her Pardon fure.

THERE is a noble Hymn in
French, which Monsieur Bayle has ce-

lebrated for a very fine one, and which the famous Author of the Art of

Speaking calls an Admirable one, that turns upon a Thought of the fame na

ture. If I could have done it Justice (in English, I would have sent it you

translated; it was written by Mon' sieur Des Barreaux, who had been one

of the greatest Wits and Libertines in France, but in his last Years was as remarkable a Penitent.

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GRAND, Dieu, tes jugemens font remplis

ď equité; Toiejours tu prens plaifir à nous être propice : Mais j' ai tant fait de mal, que jamais ta bonté Ne me pardonnera, fans choquer ta Justice.

Оці, ,

Oui, mon Dieu, la grandeur de mon impieté,
Ne laisse à ton pouvoir que le choix de fupplice;
Ton interest s'oppose à ma felicité,
Et ta clencence même attend que je periffe.
Contente ton defir, puisqu'il est glorieux;
Offenfe toy des pleurs qui coulent de mes yeux;
Tonne, frappe, il est temps, rers moi guerre pour

guerre:
Y'adore en periffaxt la raison qui t' aigrit,
Mais def'us quel endroit tombera ton tonnerre,
Qui ne soie tout couvert du sang de JESUS

CHRIST.

IF these Thoughts may be serviceable to you, I delire you would place ( them in a proper Light, and am ever, with great Sincerity,

SIR, 0

Yours, &c.

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N°514:

Monday, Oétober 20.

Me Parnasli deserta per ardua, dulcis
Raptat Amor; juvat ire jugis qua nulla priorum
Castaliam molli divertitur Orbita Clivo. Virg.

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Mr. SPECTATOR,

Came home a little later

than usual the other Night,
I

and not finding my self in-
clined to sleep, I took up

Virgil to divert me till I • should be more disposed to rest. He • is the Author whom I always chufe « on such Occasions, no one writing in "fo divine, so harmonious, nor so equal a strain, which leaves the Mind com

posed, and softned into an agreeable • Melancholy; the Temper in which, r of all others, I chuse to close the

Day. The Passages I turned to were
those beautiful Raptures in his Geor-
gicks, where he professes himself en-

tirely given up to the Muses, and smit c with the Love of Poetry, passionately, wishing to be transported to the cool

6 Shades

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Shades and Retirements of the Moun( tain Hemus. I clos'd the Book and

went to Bed. What I had just before been reading made so strong an Impression on my Mind, that Fancy seemed almost to fulfil to me the Wish of Virgil, in presenting to me the following Vision.

6 MĚTHOUGHT I was on a • sudden placed in the Plains of Bæotia,

where at the end of the Horizon "I saw the Mountain Parnas'us ri

fing before me. _The Prospect was of so large an Extent, that I had long wander'd about to find a Path (which should directly lead me to it,

had I not seen at fome distance a Grove

of Trees, which in a Plain that had ' nothing else remarkable enough in it

to fix my Sight, immediately deter' mined me to go thither. When I

arrived at it, I found it parted out into a great Number of Walks and Allys, which often widened into beau

tiful Openings, as Circles or Ovals, <set round with Yews and Cypresses, 6 with Niches, Grotto's, and Caves pla

ced on the fides, encompassed with Ivy. There was no Sound to be heard in the whole place, but only

that

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