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Cur alter fratrum cessare, et ludere, et ungi,
Præferat Herodis paimetis pinguibus-

HÖR. Ep. ii.l. 2. ver. 183.
Why, of two brothers, one his pleasure loves,
Prefers his sports to Herod's fragrant groves.
CREECH.

MR. SPECTATOR,

thing as human life. Horace reflects upon this ingellius, whom he makes a mighty pretender to economy, and tells you, you might one day hear him speak the most philosophic things imaginable concerning being contented with a little, and his contempt of every thing but mere necessaries; and in half a week after spend a thousand pounds. When he says this of him with relation to expense, he describes him as unequal to himself in every other circumstance of life. And indeed, if we consider lavish men carefully, we shall find it always proceeds from a certain incapacity of possessing themselves, and finding enjoyment in their own minds. Mr. Dryden has expressed this very excellently in the character of Zimri :†

"A man so various, that he seem'd to be
Not one, but all mankind's epitome.
Stiff in opinion, always in the wrong,
Was every thing by starts, and nothing long;
But in the course of one revolving moon,
Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon.
Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking,
Besides ten thousand freaks, that died in thinking;
Bless'd madman, that could every hour employ
In something new to wish, or to enjoy!
In squand'ring wealth was his peculiar art,
Nothing went unrewarded but desert.'

THERE is one thing I have often looked for in your papers, and have as often wondered to find myself disappointed; the rather, because I think it a subject every way agreeable to your design, and by being left unattempted by others, it seems reserved as a proper employment for you; I mean a disquisition, from whence it proceeds that men of the brightest parts, and most comprehensive genius, vil eyes; completely furnished with talents for any province in human affairs; such as by their wise lessons of economy to others have made it evident that they have the justest notions of life, and of true sense in the conduct of it; from what unhappy contradictious cause it proceeds, that persons thus at the finished by nature and by art should so often fail in the management of that which they so well understand, and want the address to make a right application of their own rules. This is certainly a gant from one pursuit to another; and the reason This loose state of the soul hurries the extravaprodigious inconsistency in behaviour, and makes that his expenses are greater than another's, is, much such a figure in morals, as a monstrous birth that his wants are also more numerous. But what in naturals; with this difference only, which greatly makes so many go on in this way to their lives' aggravates the wonder, that it happens much more end, is, that they certainly do not know how confrequently; and what a blemish does it cast upon temptible they are in the eyes of the rest of manwit and learning in the general account of the kind, or rather, that indeed they are not so conworld? And in how disadvantageous a light does temptible as they deserve. Tully says, it is the it expose them to the busy class of mankind, that greatest of wickedness to lessen your paternal esthere should be so many instances of persons who tate. And if a man would thoroughly consider have so conducted their lives in spite of these how much worse than banishment it must be to transcendent advantages, as neither to be happy his child, to ride by the estate which should have in themselves, nor useful to their friends; when been his had it not been for his father's injustice in Eng every body sees it was entirely in their own power to him, he would be smitten with the reflection into be eminent in both these characters? For my more deeply than can be understood by any but le headf part, I think there is no reflection more astonish- one who is a father. Sure there can be nothing ing, than to consider one of these gentlemen more afflicting, than to think it had been happier spending a fair fortune, running in every body's for his son to have been born of any other man debt without the least apprehension of a future living than himself. icles reckoning, and at last leaving not only his own

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children, but possibly those of other people, by tainly a very important lesson, to learn how to It is not perhaps much thought of, but it is cerhis means, in starving circumstances; while a fel- enjoy ordinary life, and to be able to relish your low, whom one would scarce suspect to have a being without the transport of some passion, or human soul, shall perhaps raise a vast estate out of gratification of some appetite. For want of this nothing, and be the founder of a family capable of capacity, the world is filled with whetters, tipplers, being very considerable in their country, and do- cutters, sippers, and all the numerous train of ing many illustrious services to it. That this ob- those who, for want of thinking, are forced to be servation is just, experience has put beyond all ever exercising their feeling, or tasting. It would dispute. But though the fact be so evident and be hard on this occasion to mention the harmless glaring, yet the causes of it are still in the dark smokers of tobacco, and takers of snuff. which makes me persuade myself, that it would be no unacceptable piece of entertainment to the pondent wonders should get estates, are the more The slower part of mankind, whom my correstown, to inquire into the hidden sources of so un-immediately formed for that pursuit. They can accountable an evil.

'I am, SIR,
'Your most humble servant.'

expect distant things without impatience, because they are not carried out of their way either by violent passion, or keen appetite to any thing. To What this correspondent wonders at, has been tion; to such as are cold to delights, business is an men addicted to delights, business is an interrupMatter of admiration ever since there was any such entertainment. For which reason it was said to thought it, since it was done, better to be supposed marked by one who commended a dull man for his applicahe than the author himself, the real state of which this zealot tion, No thanks to him; if he had no business, bly and injudiciously exposes. I ask the reader, whether any he would have nothing to do.'

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After having given this short account of Sappho, so far as it regards the following Ode, I shall sub

N° 223. THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 1711. join the translation of it as it was sent me by a

O suavis anima! qualem te dicam bonam Antehac fuisse, tales cum sint reliquiæ!

PHÆDR. Fab. i. I. 3. ver. 5.

O sweet soul! how good must you have been heretofore, when your remains are so delicious!

friend, whose admirable pastorals and winterpiece have been already so well received. The reader will find in it that pathetic simplicity which is so peculiar to him, and so suitable to the ode he has here translated. This ode in the Greek (besides those beauties observed by Madam Dacier) WHEN I reflect upon the various fate of those mul-has several harmonious turns in the words, which titudes of ancient writers who flourished in Greece are not lost in the English. I must further add, and Italy, I consider time as an immense ocean, in which many noble authors are entirely swallowed up, many very much shattered and damaged, some quite disjointed and broken into pieces, while some have wholly escaped the common wreck; but the number of the last is very small.

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Among the mutilated poets of antiquity there is none whose fragments are so beautiful as those of Sappho. They give us a taste of her way of writing, which is perfectly conformable with that extraordinary character we find of her in the remarks of those great critics who were conversant with her works when they were entire. One may see by what is left of them, that she followed nature in all her thoughts, without descending to those little points, conceits, and turns of wit with which many of our modern lyrics are so miserably infected. Her soul seems to have been made up of love and poetry. She felt the passion in all its warmth, and described it in all its symptoms. She is called by ancient authors the tenth muse; and by Plutarch is compared to Cacus the son of Vulcan, who breathed out nothing but flame. I do not know by the character that is given of her works whether it is not for the benefit of mankind that they are lost. They are filled with such bewitching tenderness and rapture, that it might have been dan. gerous to have given them a reading.

An inconstant lover called Phaon, occasioned great calamities to this poetical lady. She fell desperately in love with him, and took a voyage into Sicily, in pursuit of him, he having withdrawn himself thither on purpose to avoid her. It was in that island, and on this occasion, she is supposed to have made the hymn to Venus, with a translation of which I shall present my reader. Her hymn was ineffectual for procuring that happiness which she prayed for in it. Phaon was still obdurate, and Sappho so transported with the vio. lence of her passion, that she was resolved to get rid of it at any price.

that the translation has preserved every image and sentiment of Sappho, notwithstanding it has all the ease and spirit of an original. In a word, if the ladies have a mind to know the manner of writing practised by the so much celebrated Sappho, they may here see it in its genuine and natural beauty, without any foreign or affected or

naments.

AN HYMN TO VENUS.

'O Venus, beauty of the skies,
To whom a thousand temples rise,
Gaily false in gentle smiles,
Full of love perplexing wiles;
O goddess! from my heart remove
The wasting cares and pains of love.

'If ever thou hast kindly heard
A song in soft distress preferr'd,
Propitious to my tuneful vow,
O gentle goddess! hear me now.
Descend, thou bright, immortal guest,
In all thy radiant charms confess'd.
"Thou once didst leave almighty Jove,
And all the golden roofs above;
The car thy wanton sparrows drew,
Hov'ring in air they lightly flew;
As to my bower they wing'd their way,
I saw their quivering pinions play.
"The birds dismiss'd (while you remain)
Bore back their empty car again:
Then you, with looks divinely mild,
In ev'ry heav'nly feature smil'd,
And ask'd what new complaints I made,
And why I call'd you to my aid?
"What frenzy in my bosom rag'd,
And by what cure to be assuag'd?
What gentle youth I would allure,
Whom in my artful toils secure?
Who does thy tender heart subdue,
Tell me, my Sappho, tell me who?

Tho' now he shuns thy longing arms,
He soon shall court thy slighted charms;
Tho' now thy off 'rings he despise,
He soon to thee shall sacrifice;
Tho' now he freeze, he soon shall burn,
And be thy victim in his turn.

'Celestial visitant, once more
Thy needful presence I implore!
In pity come, and ease my grief,
Bring my distemper'd soul relief,
Favour thy suppliant's hidden fires,
And give me all my heart desires."

Madam Dacier observes, there is something very

There was a promontory in Acarnania called Leucate, on the top of which was a little temple dedicated to Apollo. In this temple it was usual pretty in that circumstance of this ode, wherein for despairing lovers to make their vows in secret, Venus is described in sending away her chariot and afterwards to fling themselves from the top of upon her arrival at Sappho's lodgings, to denote the precipice into the sea, where they were some-that it was not a short transient visit which she intimes taken up alive. This place was therefore tended to make her. This ode was preserved by called, The Lover's Leap; and whether or no the an eminent Greek critic,† who inserted it entire fright they had been in, or the resolution that could in his works, as a pattern of perfection in the push them to so dreadful a remedy, or the bruises structure of it.

which they often received in their fall, banished Longinus has quoted another ode of this great all the tender sentiments of love, and gave their poetess, which is likewise admirable in its kind, spirits another turn; those who had taken this and has been translated by the same hand with the leap were observed never to relapse into that pas- foregoing one. I shall oblige my reader with it sion. Sappho tried the cure, but perished in the experiment.

• Ambrose Phillips.

Dionysius of Halicarnassus, de Structura Orationis.

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in another paper. In the meanwhile, I cannot ever suffer his head to be broken but out of a pringit, but wonder, that these two finished pieces have ciple of honour. This is the secret spring that never been attempted before by any of our own pushes them forward; and the superiority which countrymen. But the truth of it is, the composi- they gain above the undistinguished many, does tions of the ancients, which have not in them any more than repair those wounds they have received of those unnatural witticisms that are the delight in the combat. It is Mr. Waller's opinion, that of ordinary readers, are extremely difficult to ren- Julius Cæsar, had he not been master of the Roder into another tongue, so as the beauties of the man empire, would in all probability have made original may not appear weak and faded in the an excellent wrestler: translation.

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N° 224. FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 1711.

- Fulgente trahit constrictos gloria curru
Non minus ignotos generosis——

HOR. Sat. vi. 1. 1. ver. 23.
Glory's shining chariot swiftly draws
With equal whirl the noble and the base.
CREECH.

'Great Julius on the mountains bred,
A flock perhaps or herd had led;
He that the world subdu'd had been
But the best wrestler on the green.'

That he subdued the world, was owing to the accidents of art and knowledge; had he not met with those advantages, the same sparks of emulation would have kindled within him, and prompted him to distinguish himself in some enterprise of a lower nature. Since therefore no man's lot is so unalterably fixed in this life, but that a thousand accidents may either forward or disappoint his adIf we look abroad upon the great multitude of vancement, it is, methinks, a pleasant and inoffenmankind, and endeavour to trace out the princi- sive speculation, to consider a great man as divestples of action in every individual, it will, I think, ed of all the adventitious circumstances of fortune, seem highly probable that ambition runs through and to bring him down in one's imagination to that the whole species, and that every man in propor- low station of life, the nature of which bears some tion to the vigour of his complexion is more or less distant resemblance to that high one he is at preactuated by it. It is indeed no uncommon thing to sent possessed of. Thus one may view him exermeet with men, who, by the natural bent of their cising in miniature, those talents of nature, which inclinations, and without the discipline of philo- being drawn out by education to their full length, sophy, aspire not to the heights of power and gran- enable him for the discharge of some important deur; who never set their hearts upon a numerous employment. On the other hand, one may raise train of clients and dependencies, nor other gay uneducated merit to such a pitch of greatness as appendages of greatness; who are contented with may seem equal to the possible extent of his ima competency, and will not molest their tranquil-proved capacity.

lity to gain an abundance. But it is not therefore Thus nature furnishes a man with a general ap-
to be concluded that such a man is not ambitious; petite of glory, education determines it to this or
his desires may have cut out another channel, and that particular object. The desire of distinction is
determined him to other pursuits; the motive how-not, i think, in any instance more observable than
ever may be still the same; and in these cases like- in the variety of outsides and new appearances,
wise the man may be equally pushed on with the
desire of distinction.

Though the pure consciousness of worthy actions, abstracted from the views of popular applause, be to a generous mind an ample reward, yet the desire of distinction was doubtless implanted in our natures as an additional incentive to exert ourselves in virtuous excellence.

which the modish part of the world are obliged to provide, in order to make themselves remarkable; for any thing glaring and particular, either in bebaviour or apparel, is known to have this good effect, that it catches the eye, and will not suffer you to pass over the person so adorned without due notice and observation. It has likewise, upon this account, been frequently resented as a very This passion, indeed, like all others, is frequently great slight, to leave any gentleman out of a lamperverted to evil and ignoble purposes; so that we poon or satire, who has as much right to be there may account for many of the excellencies and fol- as his neighbour, because it supposes the person lies of life upon the same innate principle, to wit, not eminent enough to be taken notice of. To the desire of being remarkable: for this, as it has this passionate fondness for distinction are owing been differently cultivated by education, study, various frolicsome and irregular practices, as saland converse, will bring forth suitable effects, as it lying out into nocturnal exploits, breaking of winfalls in with an ingenuous disposition, or a corrupt dow's, singing of catches, beating the watch, getmind. It does accordingly express itself in acts of ting drunk twice a day, killing a great number of magnanimity or selfish cunning, as it meets with a horses; with many other enterprises of the like de good or a weak understanding. As it has been fiery nature: for certainly many a man is more employed in embellishing the mind, or adorning rakish and extravagant than he would willingly be, the outside, it renders the man eminently praise- were there not others to look on, and give their worthy or ridiculous. Ambition therefore is not approbation.

to be confined only to one passion or pursuit; for One very common, and at the same time the as the same humours in constitutions otherwise most absurd ambition that ever showed itself in different, affect the body after different manners, human nature, is that which comes upon a man so the same aspiring principle within us, sometimes with experience and old age, the season when it breaks forth upon one object, sometimes upon might be expected he should be wisest ; and there fore it cannot receive any of those lessening cir

another.

It cannot be doubted, but that there is as great cumstances which do, in some measure, excuse the desire of glory in a ring of wrestlers or cudgel-disorderly ferments of youthful blood: I mean the players, as in any other more refined competition passion for getting money, exclusive of the chafor superiority. No man that could avoid it, would racter of the provident father, the affectionate husband, or the generous friend. It may be remarked, M m

* See No. 229.

for the comfort of honest poverty, that this desire into the untainted youth early notices of justice reigns most in those who have but few good quali- and honour, that so the possible advantages of ties to recommend them. This is a weed that will good parts may not take an evil turn, nor be pergrow in a barren soil. Humanity, good-nature, verted to base and unworthy purposes. It is the and the advantages of a liberal education, are in- business of religion and philosophy not so much to compatible with avarice. It is strange to see how extinguish our passions, as to regulate and direct suddenly this abject passion kills all the noble sen- them to valuable well-chosen objects. When these timents and generous ambitions that adorn human have pointed out to us which course we may law. nature; it renders the man who is overrun with it fully steer, it is no harm to set out all our sail: if a peevish and cruel master, a severe parent, an un- the storms and tempests of adversity should rise sociable husband, a distant and mistrustful friend. upon us, and not suffer us to make the haven But it is more to the present purpose to consider where we would be, it will however prove no small it as an absurd passion of the heart, rather than as consolation to us in these circumstances, that we a vicious affection of the mind. As there are fre- have neither mistaken our course, nor fallen into quent instances to be met with of a proud humility, calamities of our own procuring. so this passion, contrary to most others, affects ap- Religion therefore (were we to consider it no plause, by avoiding all show and appearance; for further than as it interposes in the affairs of this this reason it will not sometimes endure even the life) is highly valuable, and worthy of great vene common decencies of apparel. A covetous man ration; as it settles the various pretensions, and will call himself poor, that you may sooth his va- otherwise interfering interests of mortal men, and nity by contradicting him.' Love and the desire thereby consults the harmony and order of the of glory, as they are the most natural, so they are great community; as it gives a man room to play capable of being refined into the most delicate his part, and exert his abilities; as it animates to and rational passions. It is true, the wise man actions truly laudable in themselves, in their ef who strikes out of the secret paths of a private fects beneficial to society; as it inspires rational life, for honour and dignity, allured by the splen-ambition, correct love, and elegant desire. dour of a court, and the unfelt weight of public employment, whether he succeeds in his attempts or no, usually comes near enough to this painted greatness to discern the daubing; he is then desir

HUGHES.

2.

ous of extricating himself out of the hurry of life, No 225. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 1711. that he may pass away the remainder of his days in tranquillity and retirement.

Nullum numen abest si sit prudentia.

JUV. Sat. x. ver. 365. Prudence supplies the want of every good.

It may be thought then but common prudence in a man not to change a better state for a worse, nor ever to quit that which he knows he shall take up again with pleasure; and yet if human life be I HAVE often thought if the minds of men were not a little moved with the gentle gales of hopes laid open, we should see but little difference be and fears, there may be some danger of its stag-tween that of the wise man and that of the fool. nating in an unmanly indolence and security. It There are infinite reveries, numberless extrava is a known story of Domitian, that after he had gancies, and a perpetual train of vanities which possessed himself of the Roman empire, his desires pass through both. The great difference is, that turned upon catching flies. Active and masculine the first knows how to pick and cull his thoughts spirits in the vigour of youth neither can nor ought for conversation, by suppressing some, and comto remain at rest. If they debar themselves from municating others; whereas the other lets them aiming at a noble object, their desires will move all indifferently fly out in words. This sort of dis downwards, and they will feel themselves actuated cretion, however, has no place in private conver by some low and abject passion. Thus if you cut sation between intimate friends. On such occasions off the top branches of a tree, and will not suffer the wisest men very often talk like the weakest; it to grow any higher, it will not therefore cease for indeed the talking with a friend is nothing else to grow, but will quickly shoot out at the bottom. but thinking aloud.

The man indeed who goes into the world only with Tully has therefore very justly exposed a prethe narrow views of self-interest, who catches at cept delivered by some ancient writers, that a man the applause of an idle multitude, as he can find should live with his enemy in such a manner, as no solid contentment at the end of his journey, so might leave him room to become his friend; and he deserves to meet with disappointments in his with his friend in such a manner, that if he became way: but he who is actuated by a noble principle; his enemy, it should not be in his power to hurt whose mind is so far enlarged as to take in the him. The first part of this rule, which regards prospect of his country's good; who is enamoured our behaviour towards an enemy, is indeed very with that praise which is one of the fair attendants reasonable, as well as very prudential; but the of virtue, and values not those acclamations which latter part of it, which regards are not seconded by the impartial testimony of his wards a friend, savours more of cunning than of own mind; who repines not at the low station discretion, and would cut a man off from the which Providence has at present allotted him, but greatest pleasures of life, which are the freedoms yet would willingly advance himself by justifiable of conversation with a bosom friend. Besides means to a more rising and advantageous ground; that when a friend is turned into an enemy, and such a man is warmed with a generous emulation; as the son of Sirach calls him, a bewrayer of it is a virtuous movement in him to wish and to endeavour that his power of doing good may be equal

to his will.

The man who is fitted out by nature, and sent into the world with great abilities, is capable of doing great good or mischief in it. It ought therefore to be the care of education to infuse

our behaviour to

secrets,' the world is just enough to accuse the
perfidiousness of the friend, rather than the indis-
cretion of the person who confided in him.
but in all the circumstances of action, and is like
Discretion does not only show itself in words,

* Ecclesiasticus, vi. 9. xxvii. 17.

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an under agent of Providence, to guide and direct cure to himself that which is the proper happiness us in the ordinary concerns of life. of his nature, and the ultimate design of his being. There are many more shining qualities in the He carries his thoughts to the end of every action, mind of man, but there is none so useful as discre- and considers the most distant as well as the most phy not so m tion; it is this indeed which gives a value to all immediate effects of it. He supersedes every little regulate add the rest, which sets them at work in their proper prospect of gain and advantage which offers itself jects. We times and places, and turns them to the advantage here, if he does not find it consistent with his views of the person who is possessed of them. Without of an hereafter. In a word, his hopes are full of it, learning is pedantry, and wit impertinence; vir- immortality, his schemes are large and glorious, tue itself looks like weakness; the best parts only and his conduct suitable to one who knows his true qualify a man to be more sprightly in errors, and interest, and how to pursue it by proper methods. active to his own prejudice. I have, in this essay upon discretion, considered Nor does discretion only make a man the master it both as an accomplishment and as a virtue, and of his own parts, but of other men's. The discreet have therefore described it in its full extent; not man finds out the talent of those he converses only as it is conversant about worldly affairs, but with, and knows how to apply them to proper uses. as it regards our whole existence; not only as it is Accordingly, if we look into particular commu- the guide of a mortal creature, but as it is in genities and divisions of men, we may observe, that neral the director of a reasonable being. It is in it is the discreet man, not the witty, nor the this light that discretion is represented by the wise learned, nor the brave, who guides the conversa- man, who sometimes mentions it under the name of tion, and gives measures to the society. A man discretion, and sometimes under that of wisdom. with great talents, but void of discretion, is like It is indeed (as described in the latter part of this Polyphemus in the fable, strong and blind, endued paper) the greatest wisdom, but at the same time with an irresistible force, which for want of sight in the power of every one to attain. Its advanis of no use to him. tages are infinite, but its acquisition easy; or to Though a man has all other perfections, and speak of her in the words of the apocryphal writer wants discretion, he will be of no great conse- whom I quoted in my last Saturday's paper,* quence in the world; but if he has this single ta-Wisdom is glorious, and never fadeth away, yet lent in perfection, and but a common share of she is easily seen of them that love her, and found others, he may do what he pleases in his parti- of such as seek her. She preventeth them that desire her, in making herself first known unto them.

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No 226. MONDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 1711.

At the same time that I think discretion the He that seeketh her early, shall have no great tramost useful talent a man can be master of, I look vel: for he shall find her sitting at his doors. To upon cunning to be the accomplishment of little, think therefore upon her is the perfection of wis mean, ungenerous minds. Discretion points out dom, and whoso watcheth for her shall quickly be the noblest ends to us, and pursues the most proper without care. For she goeth about seeking such and laudable methods of attaining them. Cunning as are worthy of her, showeth herself favourably has only private selfish aims, and sticks at nothing unto them in the ways, and meeteth them in every which may make them succeed. Discretion has thought.' large and extended views, and, like a well formed eye, commands a whole horizon. Cunning is a kind of short-sightedness, that discovers the minutest objects which are near at hand, but is not able to discern things at a distance. Discretion, the more it is discovered, gives a greater authority to the person who possesses it. Cunning, when it is once detected, loses its force, and makes a man incapable of bringing about even those events which he might have done, had he passed only for a plain I HAVE very often lamented and hinted my sorrow man. Discretion is the perfection of reason, and in several speculations, that the art of painting is a guide to us in all the duties of life: cunning is a made so little use of to the improvement of our kind of instinct, that only looks out after our im- manners. When we consider that it places the acmediate interest and welfare. Discretion is only tion of the person represented in the most agreefound in men of strong sense and good under- able aspect imaginable, that it does not only exstandings: cunning is often to be met with in brutes press the passion or concern as it sits upon him themselves, and in persons who are but the fewest removes from them. In short, cunning is only the mimic of discretion, and may pass upon weak men, in the same manner as vivacity is often mis. taken for wit, and gravity for wisdom.

Mutum est pictura poema.

A picture is a poem without words.

who is drawn, but has under those features the height of the painter's imagination, what strong images of virtue and humanity might we not expect would be instilled into the mind from the labours of the pencil? There is a poetry which would be The cast of mind which is natural to a discreet understood with much less capacity, and less exman, makes him look forward into futurity, and pense of time, than what is taught by writings; consider what will be his condition millions of ages but the use of it is generally perverted, and that hence, as well as what it is at present. He knows admirable skill prostituted to the basest and most that the misery or happiness which are reserved for unworthy ends. Who is the better man for behim in another world, lose nothing of their reality holding the most beautiful Venus, the best wrought by being placed at so great a distance from him. Bacchanal, the images of sleeping Cupids, languishThe objects do not appear little to him because ing nymphs, or any of the representations of they are remote. He considers that those pleasures gods, goddesses, demi-gods, satyrs, Polyphemes, and pains which lie hid in eternity, approach sphynxes, or fawns? But if the virtues, and vices, nearer to him every moment, and will be present which are sometimes pretended to be represented with him in their full weight and measure, as much under such draughts, were given us by the painter as those pains and pleasures which he feels at this

very instant. For this reason he is careful to se

* Wisdom of Solomon, ch, vi. 12-16.

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