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ticle of matter through an infinite variety of divisions; but the fancy soon loses sight of it, and feels in itself a kind of chasm, that wants to be filled with matter of a more sensible bulk. We can neither widen nor contract the faculty to the dimensions of either extreme. The object is too big for our capacity when we would comprehend the circumference of a world; and dwindles into nothing when we endeavor after the idea of an

atom.

It is possible this defect of imagination may not be in the soul itself, but as it acts in conjunction with the body. Perhaps there may not be room in the brain for such a variety of impressions, or the animal spirits may be incapable of figuring them in such a manner as is necessary to excite so very large or very minute ideas. However it be, we may well suppose that beings of a higher nature very much excel us in this respect, as it is probable the soul of man will be infinitely more perfect hereafter in this faculty, as well as in all the rest; insomuch that, perhaps, the imagination will be able to keep pace with the understanding, and to form in itself distinct ideas of all the different modes and quantities of pace.-O.

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Hie sought fresh fountains in a foreign soil;
The pleasure lessen'd the attending toil.-ADDISON.

THE pleasures of the imagination are not wholly confined to such particular authors as are converBant in material objects, but are often to be met with among the polite masters of morality, criticism, and other speculations abstracted from matter, who, though they do not directly treat of the visible parts of nature, often draw from them their similitudes, metaphors, and allegories. By these allusions, a truth in the understanding is, as it were, reflected by the imagination; we are able to see something like color and shape in a notion, and to discover a scheme of thoughts traced out upon matter. And here the mind receives a great deal of satisfaction, and has two of its faculties gratified at the same time, while the fancy is busy in copying after the understanding, and transcribing ideas out of the intellectual world into the material.

The great art of a writer shows itself in the choice of pleas..g allusions which are generally to be taken from the great or beautiful works of art or nature; for, though whatever is new or uncommon is apt to delight the imagination, the chief design of an allusion being to illustrate and explain the passages of an author, it should be aiways borrowed from what is more known and common, than. the passages which are to be explained.

Allegories, when well chosen, are like so many tracks of light in a discourse, that make everything abo it them clear and beautiful. A noble metaphor,

when it is placed to an advantage, casts a kind of glory round it, and darts a luster through a whole sentence. These different kinds of allusion are but so many different manners of similitude; and that they may please the imagination, the likeness ought to be very exact or very agreeable, as we love to see a picture where the resemblance is just, or the posture and air graceful. But we often find eminent writers very faulty in this respect: great scholars are apt to fetch their comparisons and allusions from the sciences in which they are most conversant, so that a man may see the compass of their learning in a treatise on the most indifferent subject. I have read a discourse upon love, which none but a profound chemist could understand, and have heard many a sermon that should only have been preached before a congregation of Cartesians. On the contrary, your men of business usually have recourse to such instances as are too mean and familiar. They are for drawing the reader into a game of chess or tennis, or for leading him from shop to shop, in the cant of particular trades and employments. It is certain there may be found an infinite variety of very agreeable allusions in both these kinds; but for the generality, the most entertaining ones lie in the works of nature, which are obvious to all capacities, and more delightful than what is to be found in arts and sciences.

It is this talent of affecting the imagination that gives an embellishment to good sense, and makes one man's compositions more agreeable than another's. It sets off all writings in general, but is the very life and highest perfection of poetry. Where it shines in an eminent degree, it has preserved several poems for many ages, that have nothing else to recommend them; and where all the other beauties are present, the work appears dry and insipid if this single one be wanting. It has something in it like creation. It bestows a kind of existence, and draws up to the reader's view several objects which are not to be found in being. It makes additions to nature, and gives a greater variety to God's works. In a word, it is able to beautify and adorn the most illustrious scenes in the universe, or to fill the mind with more glorious shows and apparitions than can be found in any part of it.

We have now discovered the several originals of those pleasures that gratify the fancy; and here, perhaps, it would not be very difficult to cast under their proper heads those contrary objects which are apt to fill it with distaste and terror; for the imagination is as liable to pain as pleasure. When the brain is hurt by any accident, or the mind disordered by dreams or sickness, the fancy is overrun with wild dismal ideas, and terrified with a thousand hideous monsters of its own framing.

Eumenidum veluti demens videt agmina Pentheus,
Et solem geminum, et duplices se ostendere Thebas:
Aut Agamemnonius scenis agitatus Orestes.
Armatam facibus matrem et serpentibus atris
Cum fugit, ultricesque sedent in limine Dire.

VIRG. En. iv. 469.

Like Pentheus, when distracted with his fear,
He saw two suns, and double Thebes, appear;
Or mad Orestes, when his mother's ghost
Full in his face infernal torches tost,
And shook her snaky locks: he shuns the sight,
Flies o'er the stage, surpris'd with mortal fright;
The Furies guard the door, and intercept his flight.
DRYDEN.

There is not a sight in nature so mortifying as that of a distracted person, when his imagination is troubled, and his whole soul disordered and confused. Babylon in ruins is not so melancholy a spectacle. But to quit so disagreeable a

subject, I shall only consider, by way of conclu- in your heart, not unwilling to grant him; to wit, sion, what an infinite advantage this faculty gives an Almighty Being over the soul of man, and how great a measure of happiness or misery we are capable of receiving from the imagination only.

We have already seen the influence that one man has over the fancy of another, and with what ease he conveys into it a variety of imagery, how great a power then may we suppose lodged in him who knows all the ways of affecting the imagination, who can infuse what ideas he pleases, and fill those ideas with terror and delight to what degree he thinks fit! He can excite images in the mind without the help of words, and make scenes rise up before us, and seem present to the eye, without the assistance of bodies, or exterior objects. He can transport the imagination with such beautiful and glorious visions as cannot possibly enter into our present conceptions, or haunt it with such ghastly specters and apparitions as would make us hope for annihilation, and think existence no better than a curse. In short, he can so exquisitely ravish or torture the soul through this single faculty, as might suffice to make up the whole heaven or hell of any finite being.

[This essay on the Pleasures of the Imagination, having been published in separate papers, I shall conclude it with a table of the principal contents of cach paper.*]

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I Do not know anything which gives greater disturbance to conversation, than the false notion some people have of raillery. It ought, certainly, to be the first point to be aimed at in society, to gain the good-will of those with whom you converse; the way to that is, to show you are well inclined toward them. What then can be more absurd than to set up for being extremely sharp and biting, as the term is, in your expressions to your familiars? A man who has no good quality but courage, is in a very ill way toward making an agreeable figure in the world, because that which he has superior to other people cannot be exerted without raising himself an enemy. Your gentleman of a satirical vein is in the like condition. To say a thing which perplexes the heart of him you speak to, or brings blushes into his face, is a degree of murder; and it is, I think, an unpardonable offense to show a man you do not care whether he is pleased or displeased. But will you not then take a jest?-Yes: but pray let it be a jest. It is no jest to put me, who am so unhappy as to have an utter aversion to speaking to more than one man at a time, under a necessity to explain myself in much company, and reducing me to shame and derision, except I perform what my infirmity of silence disables me to do.

Calisthenes has great wit, accompanied with that quality without which a man can have no wit at all-a sound judgment. This gentleman rallies the best of any man I know; for he forms his ridicule upon a circumstance which you are,

*These contents are printed all together in the original folio, at the end of No. 421; but are in this edition arranged in their proper places, and placed at the beginnings of the several papers.

that you are guilty of an excess in something which is in itself laudable. He very well understands what you would be, and needs not fear your anger for declaring you are a little too much that thing. The generous will bear being reproached as lavish, and the valiant as rash, without being provoked to resentment against their monitor. What has been said to be a mark of a good writer will fall in with the character of a good companion. The good writer makes his reader better pleased with himself, and the agreeable man makes his friends enjoy themselves, rather than him, while he is in their company. Calisthenes does this with inimitable pleasantry. He whis pered a friend the other day, so as to be overheard by a young officer who gave symptoms of cocking upon the company, That gentleman has very much of the air of a general officer." The youth immediately put on a composed behavior, and behaved himself suitably to the conceptions he believed the company had of him. It is to be allowed that Calisthenes will make a man run into impertinent relations to his own advantage, and express the satisfaction he has in his own dear self, till he is very ridiculous; but in this case the man is made a fool by his own consent, and not exposed as such whether he will or no. I take it, therefore, that to make raillery agreeable, a man must either not know he is rallied, or think uever the worse of himself if he sees he is.

Acetus is of a quite contrary genius, and is more generally admired than Calisthenes, but not with justice. Acetus has no regard to the modesty or weakness of the person he rallies; but if his qual ity or humility gives him any superiority to the man he would fall upon, he has no mercy in making the onset. He can be pleased to see his best friend out of countenance, while the laugh is loud in his own applause. His raillery always puts the company into little divisions and sepa rate interests, while that of Calisthenes cements it, and makes every man not only better pleased with himself, but also with all the rest in the conversation.

To rally well, it is absolutely necessary that kindness must run through all you say; and you must ever preserve the character of a friend to support your pretensions to be free with a man. Acetus ought to be banished human society, because he raises his mirth upon giving pain to the person upon whom he is pleasant. Nothing but the malevolence which is too general toward those who excel could make his company tolerated; but they with whom he converses are sure to see some man sacrificed wherever he is admitted; and all the credit he has for wit, is owing to the gratification it gives to other mens' ill-nature.

Minutius has a wit that conciliates a man's love, at the same time that it is exerted against his faults. He has an art of keeping the person he rallies in countenance, by insinuating that he himself is guilty of the same imperfection. This he does with so much address, that he seems rather to bewail himself, than fall upon his friend.

It is really monstrous to see how unaccountably it prevails among men to take the liberty of displeasing each other. One would think sometimes that the contention is who shall be most disagreeable. Allusions to past follies, hints which revive what a man has a mind to forget forever, and deserves that all the rest of the world should, are commonly brought forth even in company of men of distinction. They do not thrust with the skill

of fencers, but cut up with the barbarity of Butchers. It is, methinks, below the character of men of humanity and good-manners to be capable of mirth while there is any of the company in pain and disorder. They who have the true taste of conversation, enjoy themselves in a communication of each other's excellencies, and not in a triumph over their imperfections. Fortius would have been reckoned a wit if there had never been a fool in the world; he wants not foils to be a beauty, but has that natural pleasure in observing perfection in others, that his own faults are overlooked, out of gratitude, by all his acquaintance.

After these several characters of men who succeed or fail in raillery, it may not be amiss to reflect a little further what one takes to be the most agreeable kind of it; and that to me appears when the satire is directed against vice, with an air of contempt of the fault, but no ill-will to the criminal. Mr. Congreve's Doris is a masterpiece in this kind. It is the character of a woman utterly abandoned; but her impudence, by the finest piece of raillery, is made only generosity:

Peculiar therefore is her way,
Whether by nature taught
I shall not undertake to say,
Or by experience bought;

But who o'ernight obtain'd her grace
She can next day disown,

And stare upon the strange man's face,
As one she ne'er had known.

So well she can the truth disguise,
Such artful wonder frame,
The lover or distrusts his eyes,
Or thinks 'twas all a dream.

Some censure this as lewd or low,
Who are to bounty blind;
For to forget what we bestow
Bespeaks a noble mind.

No. 423.] SATURDAY, JULY 5, 1712.
-Nuper idoneus.-HOR. 3 Od. xxvi. 1.
Once fit myself.

the fair, and am always watchful to observe any I LOOK upon myself as a kind of guardian to thing which concerns their interest. The present paper shall be employed in the service of a very fine young woman; and the admonitions I give her may not be unuseful to the rest of the sex. Gloriana shall be the name of the heroine in today's entertainment; and when I have told you that she is rich, witty, young, and beautiful, you has had since she came to town about twenty-five of those lovers who make their addresses by way of jointure and settlement: these come and go with great indifference on both sides; and as beauteous as she is, a line in a deed has had exception enough against it, to outweigh the luster of her eyes, the readiness of her understanding: and the merit of her general character. But among the crowd of such cool adorers, she has two who are very assiduous in their attendance. There is something so extraordinary and artful in their manner of application, that I think it but common justice to alarm her in it. I have done it in the following k tter:

will believe she does not want admirers. She

"MADAM,

"I have for some time taken notice of two gentlemen who attend you in all public places, both of whom have also easy access to you at your own house. But the matter is adjusted between

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them; and Damon, who so passionately addresses you, has no design upon you; but Strephon, who seems to be indifferent to you, is the man who is, as they have settled it, to have you. The plot was laid over a bottle of wine; and Strephon, when he first thought of you, proposed to Damon to be his rival. The manner of his breaking it to him, I was so placed at a tavern, that I could not avoid hearing. Damon,' said he, with a deep sigh, I have long languished for that miracle of beauty, Gloriana: and if you will be very steadfastly my rival, I shall certainly obtain her. Do not, continued he, be offended at this overture; for I go upon the knowledge of the temper of the woman, rather than any vanity that I should profit by an opposition of your pretensions to those of your humble servant. Gloriana has very good sense, a quick relish of the satisfactions of life, and will not give herself, as the crowd of women do, to the arms of a man to whom she is indifferent. As she is a sensible woman, expres. sions of rapture and adoration will not move her neither: but he that has her must be the object of her desire, not her pity. The way to this end I take to be, that a man's general conduct should be agreeable, without addressing in particular to the woman he loves. Now, Sir, if you will be so kind as to sigh and die for Gloriana, I will carry it with great respect toward her, but seem void of any thoughts as a lover. By this means I shall be in the most amiable light of which I am capable; I shall be received with freedom, you with reserve.' Damon, who has himself no designs of marriage at all, easily fell into the scheme; and you may observe, that wherever you are, Damon appears also. You see he carries on an unaffected exactness in his dress and manner, and strives always to be the very contrary of Strephon. They have already succeeded so far. that your eyes are ever in search of Strephon, and turn themselves of course from Damon. They meet and compare notes upon your carriage; and the letter which was brought to you the other day was a contrivance to remark your resentment. When you saw the billet subscribed Damon, and turned away with a scornful air, and cried impertinence! you gave hopes to him that shuns you, the disposal of your heart you should know what without mortifying him that languishes for you. What I am concerned for, Madam, is, that in you are doing, and examine it before it is lost Strephon contradicts you in discourse with the civility of one who has a value for you, but gives P nothing like one that loves you. This seemof sincerity, and insensibly obtains your good ing unconcern gives his behavior the advantage opinion by appearing disinterested in the pur hereafter, you will find that Strephon makes his chase of it. If you watch these correspondents visit of civility immediately after Damon has tired you with one of love. Though you are very discreet, you will find it no easy matter to escape the toils so well laid; as, when one studies pleasing without it. All the turns of your temto be disagreeable in passion, the other to be per are carefully watched, and their quick and faithful intelligence gives your lovers irresistible advantage. You will please, Madam, to be upon your guard, and take all the necessary precautions against one who is amiable to you before you know he is enamored.

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"I am, Madam, your most obedient Servant."

Strephon makes great progress in this lady's good graces; for most women being actuated by some little spirit of pride and contradiction, he has the good effects of both those motives by

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"I remember, Mr. Spectator, we were very well entertained, last year, with the advices you gave us from Sir Roger's country-seat; which I the rather mention, because it is almost impossible not to live pleasantly, where the master of a family is such a one as you there describe your friend, who cannot, therefore (I mean as to his domestic character) be too often recommended to the imitation of others. How amiable is that his neighbors, and every one, even the meanest affability and benevolence with which he treats of his own family! and yet how seldom imitated! Instead of which we commonly meet with ill-natured expostulations, noise, and chidings—And this I hinted, because the humor and disposition of the head is what chiefly influences all the other parts of a family.

tween friends and acquaintance is the greatest "An agreement and kind correspondence bepleasure of life. This is an undoubted truth; and yet any man who judges from the practice of the world will be almost persuaded to believe the contrary; for how can we suppose people

The comparison of Strephon's gayety to Damon's languishment strikes her imagination with a prospect of very agreeable hours with such a man as the former, and abhorrence of the insipid prospect with one like the latter. To know when a lady is displeased with another, is to know the best time of advancing yourself. This method of two persons playing into each other's hand is so dangerous, that I cannot tell how a woman could be able to withstand such a siege. The condition of Gloriana, I am afraid, is irretrievable; for Strephon has had so many opportunities of pleasing without suspicion, that all which is left for her to do is to bring him, now she is advised, to an explanation of his passion, and beginning again, if she can conquer the kind sentiments she has already conceived for him. When one shows should be so industrious to make themselves unhimself a creature to be avoided, the other proper to be fled to for succor, they have the whole easy? What can engage them to entertain and woman between them, and can occasionally re-least occasion? Yet so it is, there are people who foment jealousies of one another upon every the bound her love and hatred from one to the other, (as it should seem) delight in being troublesome in such a manner as to keep her at a distance and vexatious, who (as Tully speaks) mirà sunt from all the rest of the world, and cast lots for alacritate ad litigandum, have a certain cheerfulthe conquest. there are very few families in which there are not ness in wrangling.' And thus it happens, that feuds and animosities, though it is every one's interest, there more particularly, to avoid them, because there (as I would willingly hope) no one gives another uneasiness without feeling some share of it-But I am gone beyond what I desigued, and had almost forgot what I chiefly proposed; which was, barely to tell you how hardly we, who pass most of our time in town, dispense with a long vacation in the country; how uneasy we grow to ourselves, and to one another, when our conversation is confined; insomuch that, by Michaelmas, it is odds but we come to downright squabbling, and make as free with one another to our faces as we do with the rest of the world behind their backs. After I have told you this, I am to desire that you would now and then give us a lesson of good humor, a family-piece, which, since we are all very fond of you, I hope may have some influence upon us.

NB. I have many other secrets which concern the empire of love; but I consider, that, while I alarm my women, I instruct my men.-T.

No. 424.] MONDAY, JULY 7, 1712. Est Ulubris, animus si te non deficit æquus.

HOR. 1 Ep. xi. 36. "Tis not the place disgust or pleasure brings: From our own mind our satisfaction springs.

"MR. SPECTATOR,

London, June 24. "A MAN who has it in his power to choose his own company, would certainly be much to blame, should he not, to the best of his judgment, take such as are of a temper most suitable to his own; and where that choice is wanting, or where a man is mistaken in his choice, and yet under a necessity of continuing in the same company, it will certainly be his interest to carry himself as easily as possible.

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In this I am sensible I do but repeat what has been said a thousand times, at which, however, I think nobody has any title to take exception, but they who never failed to put this in practice. Not to use any longer preface, this being the season of the year in which great numbers of all sorts of people retire from this place of business and pleasure to country solitude, I think it not improper to advise them to take with them as great a stock of good humor as they can; for though a country life is described as the most pleasant of all others, and though it may in truth be s, yet it is so only to those who know how to enjoy leisure

and retirement.

"As for those who cannot live without the constant helps of business or company, let them consider, that in the country there is no exchange, there are no playhouses, no variety of coffee-houses, nor many of those other amusements which serve here as so many reliefs from the repeated occur rences in their own families; but that there the greatest part of their time must be spent within themselves, and consequently it behooves them to consider how agreeable it will be to them before they leave this dear town.

"After these plain observations, give me leave to give you a hint of what a set of company of my acquaintance, who are now gone into the country, and have the use of an absent nobleman's seat, have settled among themselves to avoid the inconveniences above-mentioned. They are a collection of ten or twelve, of the same good inclination toward each other, but of very different talents and inclinations; from hence they hope that the variety of their tempers will only create variety of pleasures. But as there always will arise, among the same people, either for want of diversity of objects, or the like causes, a certain satiety, which may grow into ill-humor or discontent, there is a large wing of the house which they design to employ in the nature of an infirmary. Whoever says a peevish thing, or acts anything which be trays a sourness or indisposition to company, is immediately to be conveyed to his chambers in the infirmary: from whence he is not to be relieved till by his manner of submission, and the sentiments expressed in his petition for that purpose, he appears to the majority of the company to be again fit for society. You are to understand, that all ill-natured words or uneasy gestures are sufficient cause for banishment; speaking impa

tiently to servants, making a man repeat what he says, or anything that betrays inattention or dishumor, are also criminal without reprieve. But it is provided, that whoever observes the illnatured fit coming upon himself, and voluntarily retires, shall be received at his return from the infirmary with the highest marks of esteem. By these and other wholesome methods, it is expected that, if they cannot cure one another, yet at least they have taken care that the ill-humor of one shall not be troublesome to the rest of the company. There are many other rules which the Society have established for the preservation of their ease and tranquillity, the effects of which, with the incidents that arise among them, shall be communicated to you from time to time, for the public good, by

T.

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Sir, your most humble Servant,

"R. O."

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But yields to autumn's fruitful rain,
As this to winter storms and hails;
Each loss the hasting moon repairs again.

"MR. SPECTATOR,

SIR W. TEMPLE.

Like one that hath been led astray
Through the heaven's wide, pathless way,
And oft, as if her head she bow'd,
Stooping through a fleecy cloud.

Then let some strange, mysterious dream
Wave with its wings in airy stream,
Of lively portraiture display'd,
Softly on my eyelids laid:

And, as I wake, sweet music breathe
Above, about, or underneath,

Sent by spirits to mortals' good,

Or the unseen genius of the wood.

"I reflected then upon the sweet vicissitudes of night and day, on the charming disposition of the seasons, and their return again in a perpetual circle and oh! said I, that I could from these my declining years, return again to my first spring of youth and vigor; but that, alas! is impossible! all that remains within my power is to soften the inconveniences I feel, with an easy, contented mind, and the enjoyment of such delights as this solitude affords me. In this thought, I sat me down on a bank of flowers, and dropped into a slumber, which, whether it were the effect of fumes and vapors, or my present thoughts, I know not;: but methought the genius of the garden stood be-fore me, and introduced into the walk where I lay this drama and different scenes of the revolution of the year, which while I then saw even in my dream, I resolved to write down, and send to the Spectator:

"The first person whom I saw advancing toward me was a youth of a most beautiful air and shape, though he seemed not yet arrived at "THERE is hardly anything gives me a more that exact proportion and symmetry of parts. sensible delight than the enjoyment of a cool still which a little more time would have given him; evening, after the uneasiness of a hot sultry day. but, however, there was such a bloom in his counSuch a one I passed not long ago, which made me tenance, such satisfaction and joy, that I thought. rejoice when the hour was come for the sun to set, it the most desirable form that I had ever seen.. that I might enjoy the freshness of the evening in He was clothed in a flowing mantle of green silk, my garden, which then affords me the pleasantest interwoven with flowers: he had a chaplet of hours I pass in the whole four-and-twenty. I im- roses on his head, and a narcissus in his hand: mediately rose from my couch and went down into primroses and violets sprang up under his feet, and it. You descend at first by twelve stone steps into all nature was cheered at his approach. Flora large square divided into four grassplots, in each was on one hand, and Vertumnus on the other, in of which is a statue of white marble. This is sep-a robe of changeable silk. After this, I was sur arated from a large parterre by a low wall; and prised to see the moonbeams reflected with from thence, through a pair of iron gates, you are sudden glare from armor, and to see a man com led into a long broad walk of the finest turf, set on pletely armed advancing with his sword drawn. each side with tall yews, and on either hand bor-I was soon informed by the genius it was Mars, lered by a canal, which on the right divides the walk from a wilderness parted into a variety of alleys and arbors, and on the left from a kind of amphitheater, which is the receptacle of a great number of oranges and myrtles. The moon shone bright, and seemed then most agreeably to supply the place of the sun, obliging me with as much light as was necessary to discover a thousand pleasing objects, and at the same time divested of all power of heat. The reflection of it in the water, the fanning of the wind rustling on the leaves, the singing of the thrush and nightingale, and the coolness of the walks, all conspired to make me lay aside all displeasing thoughts, and brought me into such a tranquillity of mind as is, I believe, the next happiness to that of hereafter. In this sweet retirement I naturally fell into the repetition of some lines out of a poem of Milton's, which he entitles Il Pensoroso, the ideas of which were exquisitely suited to my present wanderings of thought:

Sweet bird! that shunn'st the noise and folly,
Most musical! most melancholy!
Thee, chantress, oft, the woods among,
I woo to hear thy ev'ning song:

And missing thee I walk unseen

On the dry, smooth-shaven green,
To behold the wand'ring moon,
Riding near her highest noon,

who had long usurped a place among the attendants of the Spring. He made way for a softer appearance. It was Venus, without any ornament but her own beauties, not so much as her own cestus, with which she had encompassed a globe, which she held in her right hand, and in her left hand she had a scepter of gold. After her, followed the Graces, with their arms entwined within one another: their girdles were loosed, and they moved to the sound of soft music, striking the ground alternately with their feet. Then came up the three months which belong to this season. As March advanced toward me, there was, methought, in his look a louring roughness, which ill befitted a month which was ranked in so soft a season, but as he came forward, his features became insensibly more mild and gentle; he smoothed his brow, and looked with so sweet a countenance, that I could not but lament his departure, though he made way for April. appeared in the greatest gayety imaginable, and had a thousand pleasures to attend him: his look was frequently clouded, but immediately returned to its first composure, and remained fixed in a smile. Then came May, attended by Cupid, with his bow strung, and in a posture to let fly an arrow: as he passed by, methought I heard a confused noise of soft complaints, gentle ecstasies,

He

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