liar precept is, 'Love thy neighbour as thyself. By this shall all men know that you are my disciples, if you 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.

Lucit 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 passions, that there is a delicacy in the choice of their object; and to turn the imaginations 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 shew, 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 Claudiun, 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 try'd,

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;

He, uncontroll'd, thro' heaven extends his sway,
And gods and goddesses by turns obey;

Or if he stoops on earth, great princes burn,

Sicken on thrones, and wreath'd with laurels mourn.
Th' inferior powers o'er hearts inferior reign,
And pierce the rural fair, or homely swain,

Here Love's imperial pomp is spread around,
Voluptuous liberty that knows no bound;
And sudden storms of wrath, which soon decline;
And midnight watchings o'er the fumes of wine:
Unartful tears and hectic looks, that show
With silent eloquence the lover's woe;

Boldness unfledg'd, and to stol'n raptures new
Half trembling stands, and scarcely dares pursue :
Fears that delight, and anxious doubts of joy,
Which check our swelling hopes, but not destroy;
And short-breath'd vows, forgot as soon as made,
On airy pinions flutter through the glade.
Youth with a haughty look, and gay attire,
And rolling eyes that glow with soft desire,
Shines forth exalted on a pompous seat;
While sullen cares and wither'd age retreat.

Now from afar the palace seems to blaze,
And hither would extend its golden rays;
But by reflection of the grove is seen
The gold still vary'd by the waving green.
For Mulciber with secret pride beheld
How far his skill all human wit excell'd;
And grown uxorious, did the work design
To speak the artist, and the art divine.
Proud columns tow'ring high, support the frame,
That hewn from hyacinthian quarries came.
The beams are emeralds, and yet scarce adorn
The ruby walls on which themselves are born.
The pavement, rich with veins of agate lies;
And steps with shining jasper slippery rise.

Here spices in parterres promiscuous blow, Not from Arabia's fields more odours flow, The wanton winds through groves of cassia play, And steal the ripen'd fragrances away; Here with its load the wild amomum bends; There cinnamon, in rival sweets, contends; A rich perfume the ravish'd senses fills, While from the weeping tree the balm distils.

At these delightful bowers arrives at last The God of Love, a tedious journey past; Then shapes his way to reach the fronting gate, Doubles his majesty, and walks in state.