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human Life. Horace reflects upon this Inconsistency very agreeably in the Character of Tigellius, whom he makes a mighty Pretender to Oeconomy, and tells you, you might one Day hear him speak the moft philofophick Things imaginable concerning being contented with a little, and his Contempt of every thing but mere Necessaries, and in half a Week after spend a thousand Pound. When he fays this of him with relation to Expence, he describes him as unequal to himself in every other Circumstance of Life. And indeed, if we confider lavish Men carefully, we shall find it always proceeds from a certain Incapacity of poffefling themselves, and finding Enjoyment in their own Minds. Mr. Dryden has expressed this very excellently in the Character of Zimri.

Not one,

A Man so various, that he seem'd to be

but all Mankind's Epitome.
Stiff in Opinion, always in the Wrong,
Was every Thing by Starts, and Nothing long ;
But in the Course of one revolving Moon,
Was Chymijl, Fidler, Statesmax, and Buffoon.
Then all for Women, Painting, Rhiming, Drinking,
Besides ten thousand Freaks that died in thinking.
Bleji Madman, who could


Hour employ
In something new to wish or to enjoy!
In squandring Wealth was his peculiar Art,
Nothing went unrewarded but Desert.

THIS loose State of the Soul hurries the Extravagant from one Pursuit to another; and the Reason that his Expences are greater than another's, is, that his Wants are also more numerous. But what makes so many go on in this Way to their Lives End, is, that they certainly do not know how contemptible they are in the Eyes of the rest of Mankind, or rather, that indeed they are not so contemptible as they deserve. Tully says, it is the greatest of Wickedness to lefsen your paternal Estate. And if a Man would thoroughly consider how much worse than Banish. ment.it must be to his Child, to ride by the Estate which should have been his, had it not been for his Father's Injustice to him, he would be smitten with the Reflexion more deeply than can be understood by any but one who

is a Father. Sure there can be nothing more afflicting, than to think it had been happier for his Son to have been born of any other Man living than himself.

IT is not perhaps much thought of, but it is certainly a very important Leffon, to learn how to enjoy ordinary Life, and to be able to relish your Being without the Transport of some Passion, or Gratification of some Appetite. For want of this Capacity, the World is filled with Whetters, Tipplers, Cutters, Sippers, and all the numerous Train of those who, for want of. Thinking, are forced to be ever exercising their Feeling or Tasting. It would be hard on this Occasion to mention the harmless Smokers of Tobacco and Takers of Snuff.

THE Nower Part of Mankind, whom my Correspon. dent wonders should get Eftates, are the more immediately formed for that Pursuit: They can expect distant Things without Impatience, because they are not carried out of their Way either by violent Passion or keen Appetite to any Thing. To Men addicted to Delights, Business is an Interruption; to such as are cold to Delights, Bufi. ness is an Entertainment. For which Reason it was said to one who commended a dull Man for his Application, No Thanks to him; if he had no Bufiness, he would have nor thing to do.

T ooooooooooooooooooooo NC: 223. Saturday, November 15.

O fuavis Ånima! qualem te dicam bonam
Antehac fuile, tales cùm fint reliquiæ !

Phædr. Fab. 1. 1. 3. v. z.
O sweet Soul! how good muft you have been heretofori,
when your Remains are so delicious!
T HEN I reflect upon the various Fate of those

W Multitudes of ancient Writers who flourished in Greece and Italy, I consider Time as an immense Ocean, in which many noble Authors are intirely swallowed up, many very much shattered and damaged, fòme quite disjointed and broken into pieces, while some have wholly escaped the common Wreck ; but the Number of the last is very small,

Apparent Apparent rari nantes in gurgite vasto. Virg. Æn. 1. V. 122. One here and there floats on the vast Abyss.

AMONG the mutilated Poets of Antiquity, there is none whose Fragments are so beautiful as those of Sappho. They give us a Taste of her Way of Writing, which is perfectly conformable with that extraordinary Character we find of her, in the Remarks of those great Criticks who were conversant with her Works when they were intire. One may fee by what is left of them, that she followed Nature in all her Thoughts, without descending to those little Points, Conceits, and Turns of Wit with which many of our modern Lyricks are so miserably infected. Her Squl seems to have been i made up of Love and Poetry : She felt the Passion in all its Warmth, and described it in all its Symptoms. She is called by ancient Authors the Tenth Muse; and by Plutarch is compared to Cacus the Son of Vulcan, who breached out nothing but Flame. I do not know, by the Character that is given of her Works, whether it is not for the Benefit of Mankind that they are loft. They were filled with such bewitching Tenderness and Rapture, that it might have been dangerous to have given, them a Reading.

AN inconstant Lover, called Phaon, occafioned great Calamities to this poetical Lady. She fell desperately in Love with him, and took a Voyage into Sicily, in Pursuit of him, he having withdrawn himself thither on purpose to avoid her. It was in that Ifland, and on this Occa. fion, she is supposed to have made the Hymn to Venus, with a Translation of which I shall present my Reader. Her Hymn was ineffectual for the procuring that Happi. ness which she prayed for in it. Phaon was still obdurate, and Sappho fo transported with the Violence of her Pasfion, that she was resolved to get rid of it at any Price.

THERE was a Promontory in Acarnania called Leu. cate, on the Top of which was a little Temple dedicated to Apollo. In this Temple it was usual for despairing Lovers to make their Vows in secret, and afterwards to fling themselves from the 'Top of the Precipice into the Sea, where they were sometimes taken up alive. This Place was therefore called, The Lover's Leap; and whether or no K 3


the Fright they had been in, or the Resolution that could pash them to to dreadful a Remedy, or the Bruises which they often received in their Fall, banished all the tender Sentiments of Love, and gave their Spirits another Turn; those who had taken this Leap were observed never to rzlapfe into that Pasion. Sappho tried the Cure, but perithed in the Experiment.

AFTER having given this short Account of Sappbo fo far as it regards the following Ode, I fhall fubjoin the Translation of it as it was sent me by a Friend, whose admirable Pastorals and Winter-Piece have been already fo well received. The Reader will find in it that pathetick Simplicity which is so peculiar to him, and so suitable to the Ode he has here translated. This Ode in the Greek (besides those Beauties observed by Madam Dacier) has several hermonious Turns in the Words, which are not lost in the English. I must farther add, that the Translation has preserved every Image and Sentiment of Sappho, notwithstanding it has all the Ease and Spirit of an Original. In a word, if the Ladies have a mind to know the Manner of Writing practised by the fo much celebrated Sappbo, they may here see it in its genuine and natural beauty, without any foreign or affccted Ornaments.




O Venus, Beauty of the Skies,
To whom a thousand Temples rise,
Gayly false in gentle Smiles,
Full of Love perplexing Wiles ;
O Goddess ! from my

The wafting Cares and Pains of Love.

If ever thou hast kindly heard
A Song in soft Distress preferrd,
Propitious to may tuneful Vow,
O gentle Goddess ! bear me now.
Pefcend theu bright, immortal Guest,
In all-thy radiant Charms confeft.

III, Thou

Thou once didst leave Almighty Jove,
And all the Golden Roofs above :
The Carr tły wanton Sparrows drew,
Hovring in Air ihey lightly fiew ;
As to my Bower they winged their Way,
I saw their quivring Pinions play.

The Birds dismift (while you remain)
Bore back their empty Carr again :
Then you, with Looks divinely mild,
In ev'ry heav'nly Feature smild,
And ask'd, what new Complaints I made,
And why I call'd you to my Aid? .

What Frenzy in my Bofom raged,
And by what Cure to be af waged ?
That genile Youth I would allure,
Il'hom in my artful Toils secure ?
Who does thy tender Heart subdue,
Tell me, my Sappho, tell me who?

Tho' now he founs thy longing Arms,
He foon fwall court tby slighted Charms ;
Tho' now thy Ofrings he despise,
He foon to thee Jhall sacrifice;
Tho' now he freeze, be soon shall burn,
And te thy Victim in his Turn.

VII. .
Celestial Visitant, once more . .
Thy needful Presence I implore! '
In Pity come and ease my Grief,
Bring my difíemper d Soul Relief, .
Favour thy Supplicnt's hidden Fires,

And give me All my Heart defires, MADAM Dacier observes, there is something very pretty in that Circumstance of this Ode, wherein Venus is defcribed as sending away her Chariot upon her Arrival at Sappbo's Lodgings, to denote that it was not a short tranfaent Visit which the intended to make her. This Ode was preserved by an eminent Greek Critick, who inserted

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