Oldalképek
PDF
ePub

No. 619.
Friday,

Nov. 12,

1714.

formations, which are transmitted to me, would lead a very curious, or very idle Reader, insensibly along, through a great many Pages, I know some Authors, who would pick up a Secret History out of such Materials, and make a Bookseller an Alderman by the Copy, I shall therefore carefully preserve the Original Papers in a Room set apart for that Purpose, to the end that they may be of Service to Posterity; but shall at present content my self, with owning the Receipt of several Letters, lately come to my Hands, the Authors whereof are impatient for an Answer.

Charissa, whose Letter is dated from Cornhill, desires to be eased in some Scruples relating to the Skill of Astrologers. Referred to the Dumb Man for an

Answer.

J. C. who proposes a Love-Case, as he calls it, to the Love-Casuist, is hereby desired to speak of it to the Minister of the Parish; it being a Case of Conscience,

The poor young Lady, whose Letter is dated October 26, who complains of a harsh Guardian, and an unkind Brother, can only have my good Wishes, unless she pleases to be more particular,

The Petition of a certain Gentleman, whose Name I have forgot, famous for renewing the Curls of decayed Perriwigs, is referred to the Censor of small Wares.

The Remonstrance of T. C. against the Profanation of the Sabbath by Barbers, Shoe-cleaners, &c. had better be offered to the Society of Reformers.

A learned and laborious Treatise upon the Art of Fencing, returned to the Author.

To the Gentleman of Oxford, who desires me to insert a Copy of Latin Verses, which were denied a Place in the University Books. Answer. Nonumque prematur in annum.

To my learned Correspondent who writes against Master's Gowns, and Poke Sleeves, with a Word in Defence of large Scarves. Answer. I resolve not to raise Animosities amongst the Clergy.

To the Lady, who writes with Rage against one of her own Sex, upon the Account of Party Warmth.

Answer

Answer. Is not the Lady she writes against reckoned No. 619. Handsome?

Friday,

Nov. 12,

I desire Tom Truelove (who sends me a Sonnet upon 1714. his Mistress, with a Desire to print it immediately) to consider, that it is long since I was in Love,

I shall answer a very profound Letter from my old Friend the Upholsterer, who is still inquisitive whether the King of Sweden be living or dead, by whispering him in the Ear, That I believe he is alive.

Let Mr. Dapperwit consider, What is that long story of the Cuckoldom to me?

At the earnest Desire of Monímia's Lover, who de clares himself very penitent, he is recorded in my Paper by the Name of The Faithful Castalio.

The Petition of Charles Cocksure, which the Peti tioner stiles very reasonable- -Rejected,

The Memorial of Philander, which he desires may be dispatched out of Hand, Postponed.

I desire S. R. not to repeat the Expression under the Sun so often in his next Letter,

The Letter of P. S. who desires either to have it printed entire, or committed to the Flames. Not to be printed entire.

No. 620.

Monday, November 15

Hic vir, hic est, tibi quem promítti saepius audis.—Virg.

HAVING lately presented my Reader with a Copy

of Verses, full of the false Sublime, I shall here communicate to him an excellent Specimen of the True, Tho' it hath not been yet published, the judicious Reader will readily discern it to be the Work of a Master: And if he hath read that noble Poem on The Prospect of Peace, he will not be at a Loss to guess at the Author,

The ROYAL PROGRESS.

When BRUNSWICK first appear'd, each honest Heart,
Intent on Verse, disdain'd the Rules of Art;
For Him the Songsters, in unmeasur'd Odes,
Debas'd Alcides, and dethron'd the Gods,

No. 620.

In Golden Chains the Kings of India led, Monday, Or rent the Turban from the Sultan's Head. One, in old Fables, and the Pagan Strain,

Nov. 15,

1714.

With Nymphs and Tritons, wafts him o'er the Main,
Another draws fierce Lucifer in Arms,
And fills th' Infernal Region with Alarms |
A Third awakes some Druid, to foretel
Each future Triumph from his dreary Cell.
Exploded Fancies! that in vain deceive,

While the Mind nauseates what she can't believe.
My Muse th' expected Hero shall pursue

From Clime to Clime, and keep him still in View:
His shining March describe in faithful Lays,
Content to paint him, nor presume to praise;
Their Charms, if Charms they have, the Truth
supplies,

And from the Theme unlabour'd Beauties rise.

By longing Nations for the Throne design'd,
And call'd to guard the Rights of Human-kind,
With secret Grief his God-like Soul repines,
And Britain's Crown with joyless Lustre shines,
While Prayers and Tears his destin'd Progress stay,
And Crowds of Mourners choak their Sovereign's Way.
Not so he march'd, when Hostile Squadrons stood i
In Scenes of Death, and fir'd his generous Blood;
When his hot Courser paw'd th' Hungarian Plain,
And adverse Legions stood the Shock in vain.

His Frontiers past, the Belgian Bounds he views,
And cross the level Fields his March pursues.
Here pleas'd the Land of Freedom to survey,
He greatly scorns the Thirst of boundless Sway.
O'er the thin Soil, with silent Joy he spies
Transplanted Woods, and borrow'd Verdure rise;
Where every Meadow won with Toil and Blood,
From haughty Tyrants, and the raging Flood,
With Fruits and Flowers the careful Hind supplies,
And cloaths the Marshes in a rich Disguise.
Such Wealth for frugal Hands doth Heaven decree,
And such thy Gifts, Celestial Liberty!

Through

No. 620.
Monday,
Nov. 15,
1714,

Through stately Towns, and many a fertile Plain,
The Pomp advances to the neighbouring Main.
Whole Nations crowd around with joyful Cries,
And view the Heroe with insatiate Eyes.

In Haga's Towers he waits, 'till Eastern Gales
Propitious rise to swell the British Sails.

Hither the Fame of England's Monarch brings
The Vows and Friendships of the neighb'ring Kings:
Mature in Wisdom, his extensive Mind

Takes in the blended Int'rests of Mankind,

The World's great_Patriot. Calm thy anxious Breast,
Secure in him, O Europe take thy Rest

Henceforth thy Kingdoms shall remain confin'd
By Rocks or Streams, the Mounds which Heav'n
design'd,

The Alps their new-made Monarch shall restrain,
Nor shall thy Hills, Pirene, rise in vain.

But see! to Britain's Isle the Squadrons stand
And leave the sinking Towers, and lessening Land.
The Royal Bark bounds o'er the floating Plain,
Breaks thro' the Billows, and divides the Main.
O'er the vast Deep, Great Monarch, dart thine Eyes,
A watry Prospect bounded by the Skies!

Ten thousand Vessels from Ten thousand Shores
Bring Gums and Gold, and either India's Stores:
Behold the Tributes hastening to thy Throne,
And see the wide Horison all thy own.

Still is it thine; tho' now the cheerful Crew
Hail Albion's Cliffs, just whitening to the View.
Before the Wind with swelling Sails they ride,
Till Thames receives them in his opening Tide.
The Monarch hears the thundring Peals around,
From trembling Woods and echoing Hills rebound,
Nor misses yet, amid the deafening Train,
The Roarings of the hoarse-resounding Main.

As in the Flood he sails, from either Side He views his Kingdom in its rural Pride;

A

No. 620. A various Scene the wide-spread Landskip yields,
Monday, O'er rich Enclosures and luxuriant Fields:
Nov. 15,
A lowing Herd each fertile Pasture fills,
1714.

And distant Flocks strav o'er a thousand Hills:
Fair Greenwich hid in Woods with new Delight,
(Shade above Shade) now rises to the Sight:
His Woods ordain'd to visit every Shore,
And guard the Island which they grac'd before.

The Sun now rowling down the Western Way,
A Blaze of Fires renews the fading Day 1
Unnumber'd Barks the Regal Barge infold,
· Brightening the Twilight with its beamy Gold
Less thick the finny Shoals, a countless Fry,
Before the Whale or kingly Dolphin fly.

In one vast Shout he seeks the crowded Strand,
And in a Peal of Thunder gains the Land.

Welcome, great Stranger, to our longing Eyes,
Oh! King desir'd, adopted Albion cries.

For Thee the East breath'd out a prosp'rous Breeze,
Bright were the Suns, and gently swell'd the Seas.
Thy Presence did each doubtful Heart compose,
And Factions wonder'd that they once were Foes,
That joyful Day they lost each Hostile Name,
The same their Aspect, and their Voice the same.

So two fair Twins, whose Features were design'd
At one soft Moment in the Mother's Mind,
Show each the other with reflected Grace,
And the same Beauties bloom in either Face;
The puzzled Strangers which is which enquire,
Delusion grateful to the smiling Sire.

From that fair Hill, where hoary Sages boast
To name the Stars, and count the heavenly Host,
By the next Dawn doth great Augusta rise,

Proud Town! the noblest Scene beneath the Skies.
O'er Thames her thousand Spires their Lustre shed.
And a vast Navy hides his ample Bed,

A floating Forest. From the distant Strand

A

« ElőzőTovább »