to that behaviour which best suits with the common well-being. Hence that sympathy in our nature, whereby we feel the pains and joys of our fellowcreatures. Hence that prevalent love in parents towards their children, which is neither founded on the merit of the object, nor yet on self-interest. It is this that makes us inquisitive concerning the affairs of distant nations, which can have no influence on our own. It is this that extends our care to future generations, and excites us to acts of beneficence towards those who are not yet in being, and consequently from whom we can expect no recompence. In a word, hence arises that diffusive sense of humanity so unaccountable to the selfish man who is untouched with it, and is indeed a sort of monster, or anomalous production.

These thoughts do naturally suggest the following particulars. First, that as social inclinations are absolutely necessary to the well-being of the world, it is the duty and interest of each individual to cherish and improve them to the benefit of mankind; the duty, because it is agreeable to the intention of the Author of our being, who aims at the common good of his creatures, and as an indication of his will, hath implanted the seeds of mutual benevolence in our souls; the interest, because the good of the whole is inseparable from that of the parts; in promoting, therefore, the common good, every one doth at the same time promote his own private interest. Another observation I shall draw from the premises is, that it makes a signal proof of the divinity of the Christian religion, that the main duty which it inculcates above all others is charity. Different maxims and precepts have distinguished the different sects of philosophy and religion; our Lord's peculiar precept is, Love thy neighbour as thyself. By this shall all men know that you are my disciples, if ye love one another.'

I will not say, that what is a most shining proof of our religion, is not often a reproach to its professors: but this I think very plain, that whether we regard the analogy of nature, as it appears in the mutual attraction or gravitations of the mundane system, in. the general frame and constitution of the human soul; or lastly, in the ends and aptness which are discoverable in all parts of the visible and intellectual world; we shall not doubt but the precept, which is the characteristic of our religion, came from the Author of nature. Some of our modern free-thinkers would indeed insinuate the Christian morals to be defective, because, say they, there is no mention made in the Gospel of the virtue of friendship. These sagacious men (if I might be allowed the use of that vulgar saying) cannot see the wood for trees.' That a religion, whereof the main drift is to inspire its professors with the most noble and disinterested spirit of love, charity, and beneficence, to all mankind; or, in other words, with a friendship to every individual man; should be taxed with the want of that very virtue, is surely a glaring evidence of the blindness and prejudice of its adversaries.

N° 127. THURSDAY, AUGUST 6, 1713.

Lusit amabiliter

He sported agreeably.

AN agreeable young gentleman, that has a talent for poetry, and does me the favour to entertain me with his performances after my more serious studies, read me yesterday the following translation. In this town, where there are so many women of prostituted charms, I am very glad when I gain so much time of reflection from a youth of a gay turn, as is taken up in any composition, though the piece he writes is not foreign to that of his natural inclination. For it is a great step towards gaining upon the pas sions, that there is a delicacy in the choice of their object and to turn the imagination towards a bride, rather than a mistress, is getting a great way towards being in the interest of virtue. It is an hopeless manner of reclaiming youth which has been practised by some moralists, to declaim against pleasure in general. No; the way is to show, that the pleasurable course is that which is limited and governed by reason. In this case virtue is upon equal terms with vice, and has, with all the same indulgences of desire, the advantage of safety in honour and reputation. I have for this reason often thought of exercising my pupils, of whom I have several of admirable talents, upon writing little poems or epigrams, which in a volume I would entitle The Seeing Cupid. These compositions should be written on the little advances made towards a young lady of the strictest virtue, and all the circumstances alluded to in them,

should have something that might please her mind in its purest innocence, as well as celebrate her person in its highest beauty. This work would instruct a woman to be a good wife, all the while it is a wooing her to be a bride. Imagination and reason should go hand in hand in a generous amour; for when it is otherwise, real discontent and aversion in marriage succeed the groundless and wild promise of imagination in courtship.

The Court of Venus, from Claudian, being part of the Epithalamium on Honorius and Maria.

In the fam'd Cyprian isle a mountain stands,
That casts a shadow into distant lands.
In vain access by human feet is tried,
Its lofty brow looks down with noble pride

On bounteous Nile, thro' seven wide channels spread,
And sees old Proteus in his oozy bed.

Along its sides no hoary, frosts presume

To blast the myrtle shrubs, or nip the bloom.
The winds with caution sweep the rising flowers,
While balmy dews descend, and vernal showers.
The ruling orbs no wintry horrors bring,
Fix'd in th' indulgence of eternal spring.
Unfaded sweets in purple scenes appear,
And genial breezes soften all the year.
The nice, luxurious soul, uncloy'd may rove;
From pleasures still to circling pleasures move;
For endless beauty kindles endless love.

The mountain, when the summit once you gain,
Falls by degrees, and sinks into a plain;
Where the pleas'd eye may flow'ry meads behold,
Inclos'd with branching oar, and hedg'd with gold:
Or where large crops the gen'rous glebe supplies,
And yellow harvests unprovok'd arise.

For by mild zephyrs fann'd, the teeming soil
Yields ev'ry grain, nor asks the peasant's toil.
These were the bribes, the price of heav'nly charms;
These Cytherea won to Vulcan's arms:
For such a bliss he such a gift bestow'd;
The rich, th' immortal labours of a god.

A sylvan scene, in solemn state display'd,
Flatters each feather'd warbler with a shade;
But here no bird its painted wings can move,
Unless elected by the Queen of Love.

Ere made a member of this tuneful throng,
She hears the songster, and approves the song:
The joyous victors hop from spray to spray;
The vanquish'd fly with mournful notes away.

Branches in branches twin'd, compose the grove
And shoot, and spread, and blossom into love.
The trembling palms their mutual vows repeat;
And bending poplars bending poplars meet:
The distant plantanes seem to press more nigh;
And to the sighing alder, alders sigh.

Blue heav'ns above them smile; and all below,
Two murm'ring streams in wild meanders flow.
This mix'd with gall; and that like honey sweet!
But ah! too soon th' unfriendly waters meet!
Steep'd in these springs (if verse belief can gain)
The darts of Love their double power attain:
Hence all mankind a bitter sweet have found,
A painful pleasure, and a grateful wound.

Along the grassy banks, in bright array,
Ten thousand little loves their wings display:
Quivers and bows their usual sports proclaim;
Their dress, their stature, and their looks the same;
Smiling in innocence, and ever young,

And tender, as the nymphs from whom they sprung;
For Venus did but boast one only son,
And rosy Cupid was that boasted one;