thousand instances I shall name one, which I think the most delicate and tender I ever saw.

To myself I sigh often, without knowing why;

And when absent from Phillis, methinks I could die.

A man who hath ever been in love will be touched at the reading of these lines; and every one who now feels that passion, actually feels that they are true.

From what I have advanced, it appears, how difficult it is to write easily. But when easy writings fall into the hands of an ordinary reader, they appear to him so natural and unlaboured, that he immediately resolves to write, and fancies that all he hath to do is to take no pains. Thus he thinks, indeed simply, but the thoughts, not being chosen with judgment, are not beautiful: he, it is true, expresses himself plainly, but flatly withal. Again, if a man of vivacity takes it into his head to write this way, what self-denial must he undergo, when bright points of wit occur to his fancy! How difficult will he find it to reject florid phrases, and pretty embellishments of style! So true it is, that simplicity of all things is the hardest to be copied, and ease to be acquired with the greatest labour. Our family knows very well how ill Lady Flame looked, when she imitated Mrs. Jane in a plain black suit. And, I remember, when Frank Courtly was saying the other day, that any man might write easy, I only asked him, if he thought it possible that Squire Hawthorn should ever come into a room as he did? He made me a very handsome bow, and answered with a smile," Mr. Ironside, you have convinced me."

I shall conclude this paper by observing that pastoral poetry, which is the most considerable kind of easy writing, hath the oftenest been attempted with ill success, of any sort whatsoever. I shall, therefore, in a little time, communicate my thoughts upon that subject to the public.

N° 16. MONDAY, MARCH 30, 1713.

-Ne fortè pudori

Sit tibi musa lyræ solers, et cantor Apollo.

HOR. Ars Poet. v. 406.

Blush not to patronise the muse's skill.

WO mornings ago a gentleman came in to my Lady Lizard's testable, who is distinguished in town by the good taste he is known to have in polite writings, especially such as relate to love and gallantry. The figure' of the man had something odd and grotesque in it, though his air and manner were genteel and easy, and his wit agreeable. The ladies, in complaisance to him, turned the discourse to poetry. This soon gave him an occasion of producing two new songs to the company; which, he said, he would venture to recommend as complete performances. "The first," continued he, "is by a gentleman of an unrivalled reputation in every kind of writing ;* and the second by a lady who does me the honour to be in love with me, because I am not handsome." Mrs. Annabella upon this (who never lets slip an occasion of doing sprightly things) gives a twitch to the paper with a finger and thumb, and snatches it out of the gentleman's hands then casting her eye over it with a seeming impatience, she read us the songs; and in a very obliging manner, desired the gentleman would let her have a copy of them, together with his judgment upon songs in general; "that I may be able," said she, "to judge of gallantries of this nature, if ever it should be my fortune to have a poetical lover." The gentleman complied; and accordingly Mrs. Annabella, the very next morning, when she was at her toilet, had the following packet delivered to her by a spruce valet-de-chambre :

THE FIRST SONG.

I.

On Belvidera's bosom lying,
Wishing, panting, sighing, dying,
The cold regardless maid to move,
With unavailing prayers I sue:
"You first have taught me how to love,
Ah teach me to be happy too!"

Probably Addison.

"To let you see how absolute your commands are over me, and to convince you of the opinion I have of your good sense, I shall, without any preamble of compliments, give you my thoughts upon Song-writing, in the same order as they have occurred to me, only allow me, in my own defence, to say, that I do not remember ever to have met with any piece of criticism upon this subject; so that if I err, or seem singular in my opinions, you will be the

more at liberty to differ from them, since I do not pretend to support them by any authority.

"In all ages, and in every nation where poetry has been in fashion, the tribe of sonneteers hath been very numerous. Every pert young fellow that has a moving fancy, and the least jingle of verse in his head, sets up for a writer of songs, and resolves to immortalize his bottle or his mistress. What a world of insipid productions in this kind have we been pestered with since the Revolution, to go no higher! This, no doubt, proceeds in a great measure from not forming a right judgment of the nature of these little compositions. It is true, they do not require an elevation of thought, nor any extraordinary capacity, nor an extensive knowledge; but then they demand great regularity, and the utmost nicety; an exact purity of style, with the most easy and flowing numbers: an elegant and unaffected turn of wit, with one uniform and simple design. Greater works cannot well be without some inequalities and oversights, and they are in them pardonable; but a song loses all its lustre if it be not polished with the greatest accuracy. The smallest blemish in it, like a flaw in a jewel, takes off the whole value of it. A song is, as it were, a little image in enamel, that requires all the nice touches of the pencil, a gloss and a smoothness, with those delicate finishing strokes, which would be superfluous and thrown away upon larger figures, where the strength and boldness of a masterly hand gives all the grace.

"Since you may have recourse to the French and English translations, you will not accuse me of pedantry, when I tell you that Sappho, Anacreon, and Horace in some of his shorter lyrics, are the completest models for little odes or sonnets. You will find them generally pursuing a single thought in their songs, which is driven to a point, without those interruptions and deviations so frequent in the modern writers of this order. To do justice to the French, there is no living language that abounds so much in good songs. The genius of the people, and the idiom of their tongue, seems adapted to compositions of this Our writers generally crowd into one song, materials enough for several; and so they starve every thought, by endeavouring to nurse up more than one at a time. They give you a string of imperfect sonnets, instead of

sort.

one finished piece, which is a fault Mr. Waller (whose beauties cannot be too much admired) sometimes falls into. But, of all our countrymen, none are more defective in their songs, through a redundancy of wit, than Dr. Donne and Mr. Cowley. In them one point of wit flashes so fast upon another, that the reader's attention is dazzled by the continual sparkling of their imagination; you find a new design started almost in every line, and you come to the end without the satisfaction of seeing any one of them executed.

"A song should be conducted like an epigram; and the only difference between them is, that the one does not require the lyric numbers, and is usually employed upon satirical occasions; whereas the business of the other, for the most part, is to express (as my Lord Roscommon translates it from Horace)

Love's pleasing cares, and the free joys of wine.

"I shall conclude what I have to say upon this subject, by observing, that the French do very often confound the song and the epigram, and take the one reciprocally for the other. An instance of which I shall give you in a remarkable epigram which passes current abroad for an excellent song.

Tu parles mal par-tout de moi,
Je dis du bien par-tout de toi ;
Quel malheur est le nôtre?

L'on ne croit ni l'un ni l'autre.

"For the satisfaction of such of your friends as may not understand the original, I shall venture to translate it after my fashion, so as to keep strictly to the turn of thought, at the expense of losing something in the poetry and versification.

Thou speakest always ill of me,

I speak always well of thee:

But spite of all our noise and pother,
The world believes nor one nor t'other.

"Thus, Madam, I have endeavoured to comply with your commands; not out of any vanity of erecting mysel into a critic, but out of an earnest desire of being thought, upon all occasions,

"Your most obedient servant."