His Sentiments and Actions are every Way suitable to an Hero. One of us two, fays he, muft dye: I am an Earl as well as your felf, fo that you can have no Pretence for refufing the Combat: However, fays he, 'tis Pity, and indeed would be a Sin, that so many innocent Men should perish for our fakes, rather let you and I end our Quarrel in fingle Fight.

E'er thus I will out-braved be,
One of us two ball dye;

I know thee well, an Earl thou art,
Lord Piercy fo am I.

But trust me, Piercy, Pity it were,
And great Offence, to kill
Any of these our harmless Men,
For they have done no Ill.
Let thou and I the Battel try,
And fet our Men afide;
Accurft be he, Lord Piercy faid,
By whom this is deny'd.

WHEN these brave Men have diftinguished themselves in the Battel and in fingle Combat with each other, in the Midft of a generous Parly, full of heroic Sentiments, the Scotch Earl falls; and with his Dying Words encourages his Men to revenge his Death, reprefenting to them, as the most bitter Circumftance of it, that his Rival faw him fall,

With that there came an Arrow keen
Out of an English Bow,

Which ftruck Earl Douglas to the Heart
A deep and deadly Blow.

Who never spoke more Words than these,
Fight on my merry Men all,
For why, my Life is at an End,

Lord Piercy fees my Fall.

Merry Men, in the Language of those Times, is no more than a chearful Word for Companions and Fellow-Soldiers. A Paffage in the Eleventh Book of Virgil's Aneids is very much to be admired, where Camilla in her laft Agonies inftead of weeping over the Wound fhe had received, as one might have expected from a Warrior of her Sex,

con

confiders only (like the Hero of whom we are now fpeaking) how the Battel fhould be continued after her Death.

Tum fic expirans, &c.

A gathering Mift o'erclouds her chearful Eyes;
And from her Cheeks the rofie Colour flies,
Then turns to her, whom, of her Female Train,
She trusted moft, and thus fhe speaks with Pain.
Acca, 'tis paft! He fwims before my Sight,
Inexorable Death; and claims his Right.
Bear my last Words to Turnus, fly with Speed,
And bid him timely to my Charge fucceed:
Repel the Trojans, and the Town relieve:
Farewel.

TURNUS did not die in so heroick a Manner; tho our Poet seems to have had his Eye upon Turnus's Speech in the laft Verse,

Lord Piercy fees my Fall.

Vicifti, & victum tendere palmas
Aufonii videre-

EARL Piercy's Lamentation over his Enemy is generous, beautiful, and paffionate; I muft only caution the Reader not to let the Simplicity of the Style, which one may well pardon in fo old a Poet, prejudice him against the Greatness of the Thought.

will

Then leaving Life, Earl Piercy took
The dead Man by the Hand,
And faid, Earl Douglas for thy Life
Would I had left my Land.

O Chrift! My very Heart doth bleed
With Sorrow for thy Sake;

For fure a more renowned Knight
Mifchance did never take.

That beautiful Line, Taking the Dead Man by the Hand,
put the Reader in Mind of Æneas's Behaviour towards
Laufus, whom he himself had Slain as he came to the
Refcue of his aged Father,

At

At vero ut vultum vidit morientis, & ora,
Ora modis Anchifiades, pallentia miris:

Ingemuit, miferans graviter, dextramque tetendit, &c. The pious Prince beheld young Laufus dead;

He griev'd, he wept, then grafp'd his Hand, and faid, Poor hapless Youth! What Praises can be paid

To Worth fo great·

!

I fhall take another Opportunity to confider the other Parts of this old Song.

C

N° 71.

T

Tuesday, May 22.

Scribere juffit amor.

Ovid.

HE entire Conqueft of our Paffions is fo difficult a Work, that they who defpair of it fhould think of a lefs difficult Task, and only attempt to Regulate them. But there is a third thing which may contribute not only to the Eafe, but alfo to the Pleasure of our Life; and that is refining our Faffions to a greater Elegance, than we receive them from Nature. When the Paffion is Love, this Work is performed in infocent, tho' rude and uncultivated Minds, by the mere Force and Dignity of the Object. There are Forms which naturally create Respect in the Beholders, and at once inflame and chastise the Imagination. Such an Impreffion as this gives an immediate Ambition to deferve, in order to please. This Cause and Effect are beautifully defcribed by Mr. Dryden in the Fable of Cymon and Iphigenia. After he has reprefented Cymon fo ftupid,that

He whistled as he went, for want of Thought,

he makes him fall into the following Scene, and fhews its Influence upon him fo excellently, that it appears as Natural as Wonderful.

It happen'd on a Summer's Holiday

That to the Greenwood-fhade he took his way;
His Quarter-ftaff, which he cou'd ne'er forfake,
Hung half before, and half behind his Back.

He

He trudg'd along unknowing what he fought,
And whistled as he went, for want of Thought.
By Chance conducted, or by Thirft constrain'd,
The deep Receffes of the Grove he gain'd;
Where in a Plain, defended by the Wood,
Crept thro' the matted Grafs a Crystal Flood,
By which an Alablafter Fountain flood:
And on the Margin of the Fount was laid,
(Attended by her Slaves) a fleeping Maid,

Like Dian, and her Nymphs, when tir'd with Spert,
To reft by cool Eurotas they refort:

The Dame her felf the Goddess well exprefs'd,
Not more diftinguish'd by her Purple Veft,
Than by the charming Features of her Face,
And even in Slumber a fuperior Grace:
Her comely Limbs compos'd with decent Care,
Her Body Shaded with a flight Cymarr ;
Her Bofom to the View was only bare:
The fanning Wind upon her Bofom blows,
To meet the fanning Wind the Bofom rofe;

The fanning Wind and purling Streams continue her
Repofe.

The Fool of Nature flood with ftupid Eyes
And gaping Mouth, that teftify'd Surprize,
Fix'd on her Face, nor could remove his sight,
New as he was to Love, and Novice in Delight:
Long mute he stood, and leaning on his Staff,
His Wonder witness'd with an Ideot Laugh;
Then would have spoke, but by his glimm'ring Senfe
First found his want of Words, and fear'd Offence:
Doubted for what he was he should be known,
By his Clown-Accent, and his Country-Tone.

}

BUT left this fine Defcription fhould be excepted againft, as the Creation of that great Mafter Mr. Dryden, and not an Account of what has really ever happened in the World; I fhall give you, verbatim, the Epistle of an enamoured Footman in the Country, to his Miftrefs. Their Sirnames fhall not be inferted, because their Paffion demands a greater Respect than is due to their Quality. James is Servant in a great Family, and Elizabeth waits upon the Daughter of one as numerous, fome Miles off

of her Lover. James, before he beheld Betty, was vain of his Strength, a rough Wreftler, and quarrelfome CudgelPlayer; Betty a publick Dancer at May-poles, a Romp at Stool-Ball: He always following idle Women, fhe playing among the Peasants: Hea Country Bully, the a Country Coquette. But Love has made her conftantly in her Miftrefs's Chamber, where the young Lady gratifies a fecret Paffion of her own, by making Betty talk of James; and James is become a conftant Waiter near his Mafter's Apartment, in reading, as well as he can, Romances. I cannot learn who Molly is, who it seems walked Ten Mile to carry the angry Meffage, which gave Occafion to what follows.

To ELIZABETH

My Dear Betty,

'RE

6

May 14, 1711. EMEMBER your bleeding Lover, who lyes bleeding at the Wounds Cupid made with the Arrows he borrowed at the Eyes of Venus, which is your fweet Perfon.

Nay more, with the Token you fent me for my Love and Service offered to your fweet Perfon; which was, your base Refpects to my ill Conditions; when alas! there is no ill Conditions in me, but quite contrary ; all Love and Purity, especially to your fweet Perfon; but all this I take as a Jeft.

BUT the fad and dismal News which Molly brought me ftruck me to the Heart, which was, it seems, and is, your ill Conditions for my Love'and Refpects to you.

FOR fhe told me, if I came Forty times to you, you would not fpeak with me, which Words I am fure is a great Grief to me.

NOW, my Dear, if I may not be permitted to your fweet Company, and to have the Happiness of fpeaking with your fweet Perfon, I beg the Favour of you to accept of this my fecret Mind and Thoughts, which hath fo long lodged in my Breaft; the which if you do not accept, I believe will go nigh to break my Heart. FOR indeed, my Dear, I love you above all the < Beauties I ever faw in all Life.

THE young Gentleman, and my Master's Daughter, the Londoner that is come down to marry her, fate in

• the