slow diligence and steady perseverance, to which the mind is dragged by necessity or resolution, and from which the attention is every moment starting to more delightful amusements. It frequently happens, that a design which, when considered at a distance, gave flattering hopes of facility, mocks us in the execution with unexpected difficulties; the mind which, while it considered it in the gross, imagined itself amply furnished with materials, finds sometimes an unexpected barrenness and vacuity, and wonders whither all those ideas are vanished, which a little before seemed struggling for emission. Sometimes many thoughts present themselves; but so confused and unconnected, that they are not without difficulty reduced to method or concatenated in a regular and dependent series; the mind falls at once into a labyrinth, of which neither the beginning nor end can be discovered, and toils and struggles without progress or extrication. It is asserted by Horace, that "if matter be once got together, words will be found with very little difficulty;" a position which, though sufficiently plausible to be inserted in poetical precepts, is by no means strictly and philosophically true. If words were naturally and necessarily consequential to sentiments, it would always follow, that he who has most knowledge must have most eloquence, and that every man would clearly express what he fully understood: yet we find, that to think, and discourse, are often the qualities of different persons: and many books might surely be produced, where just and noble sentiments are degraded and obscured by unsuitable diction. Words, therefore, as well as things, claim the care of an author. Indeed, of many authors, and those not useless or contemptible, words are almost the only care: many make it their study, not so much to strike out new sentiments, as to recommend those which are already known to more favourable notice by fairer decorations: but every man, whether he copies or invents, whether he delivers his own thoughts or those of another, has often found himself deficient in the power of expression, big with ideas which he could not utter, obliged to ransack his memory for terms adequate to his conceptions, and at last unable to impress upon his reader the image existing in his own mind. It is one of the common distresses of a writer, to be within a word of a happy period, to want only a single epithet to give amplification its full force, to require only a correspondent term in order to finish a paragraph with elegance, and make one of its members answer to the other: but these deficiences cannot always be supplied: and after a long study and vexation, the passage is turned anew, and the web unwoven that was so nearly finished. But when thoughts and words are collected and adjusted, and the whole composition at last concluded, it seldom gratifies the author, when he comes coolly and deliberately to review it with the hopes which had been excited in the fury of the performance: novelty always captivates the mind; as our thoughts rise fresh upon us, we readily believe them just and original, which, when the pleasure of production is over, we find to be mean and common, or borrowed from the works of others, and supplied by memory rather than invention. But though it should happen that the writer finds no such fault in his performance, he is still to remember, that he looks upon it with partial eyes: and when he considers how much men who could judge of others with great exactness, have often failed of judging of themselves, be will be afraid of deciding too hastily in his own favour, or of allowing himself to contemplate with too much complacence, treasure that has not yet been brought to the test, nor passed the only trial that can stamp its value. From the public, and only from the public, is he to await a confirmation of his claim, and a final justification of self-esteem; but the public is not easily persuaded to favour an auther. If mankind were left to judge for themselves, it is reasonable to imagine, that of such writings, at least, as describe the movements of the buman passions, and of which every man carries the archetype within him, a just opinion would be formed; but whoever has remarked the fate of books, must have found it governed by other causes than general consent arising from general conviction. If a new performance happens not to fall into the hands of some who have courage to tell, and authority to propagate their opinion, it often remains long in obscurity, and perishes unknown and unexamined. A few, a very few, commonly constitute the taste of the time; the judgment which they have once pronounced, some are too lazy to discuss, and some too timerous to contradict; it may however be, I think, observed, that their power is greater to depress than exalt, as mankind are more credulous of censure than of praise. This perversion of the public judgment is not to be rashly numbered amongst the miseries of an author: since it commonly serves, after miscarriage, to reconcile him to himself. Be cause the world has sometimes passed an unjust sentence, he readily concludes the sentence un just by which his performance is condemned; because some have been exalted above their merits by partiality, he is sure to ascribe the success of a rival, not to the merit of his work, but the zeal of his patrons. Upon the whole, as the author seems to share all the common miseries of life, he appears to partake likewise of its lenitives and abatements. POLITICAL TRACTS. MARMOR NORFOLCIENSE; OR, An Essay on an Ancient Prophetical Inscription, in Monkish Rhyme, lately discovered near Lynn, in Norfolk, by Probus Britannicus. FIRST PRINTED IN THE YEAR 1739. IN Norfolk, near the town of Lynn, in a field which an ancient tradition of the country affirms to have been once a deep lake or meer, and which appears from authentic records to have been called, about two hundred years ago, Palus, or the Marsh, was discovered not long since a large square stone which is found upon an exact inspection to be a kind of coarse marble, of a substance not firm enough to admit of being polished, yet harder than our common quarries afford, and not easily susceptible of injuries from weather or outward accidents. It was brought to light by a farmer, who ob. serving his plough obstructed by something, through which the share could not make its way, ordered his servants to remove it. This was not effected without some difficulty, the stone being three feet four inches deep, and four feet square in the superficies, and consequently of a weight not easily manageable. However, by the application of levers, it was at length raised, and conveyed to a corner of the field, where it lay for some months entirely unregarded: nor perhaps had we ever been made acquainted with this venerable relique of antiquity, had not our good fortune been greater than our curiosity. A gentleman, well known to the learned world, and distinguished by the patronage of the Mecenas of Norfolk, whose name, were I permitted to mention it, would excite the attention of my reader, and add no small authority to my conjectures, observing, as he was walking that way, that the clouds began to gather and threaten him with a shower, had recourse for shelter to the trees under which this stone happened to lie, and sat down upon it in expectation of fair weather. At length he began to amuse himself in his confinement, by clearing the earth from his seat with the point of his cane: and had continued this employment some time, when he observed several traces of letters antique and irregular, which by being very deeply engraven were still easily distinguishable. This discovery so far raised his curiosity, that going home immediately, he procured an instrument proper for cutting out the clay, that filled up the spaces of the letters, and with very little labour made the inscription legible, which is here exhibited to the public: POST-GENITIS. Cum lapidem hunc, magns Vitiantes, et spoliantes ; In rabiem tunc contremet ursa Neque bellua victa remugit. These lines he carefully copied, accompanied in his letter of July 19, with the following trans- | much study, could gain him no reputation, and lation. TO POSTERITY. Whene'er this stone, now hid beneath the lake, Then o'er the world shall discord stretch her wings : ; The bear enraged th' affrighted moon shall dread I make not the least doubt, but that this learned person has given us, as an antiquary, a true and uncontrovertible representation of the writer's meaning, and am sure he can confirm it by innumerable quotations from the authors of the middle age, should he be publicly called upon by any man of eminent rank in the republic of letters; nor will he deny the world that satisfaction, provided the animadverter proceeds with that sobriety and modesty, with which it becomes every learned man to treat a subject of such importance. engrave his chimeras on a stone to astonish pos terity. Its antiquity therefore is out of dispute; but how high a degree of antiquity is to be assigned it, there is more ground for inquiry than determination. How early Latin rhymes made their appearance in the world is yet undecided by the critics. Verses of this kind were called Lea nine; but whence they derived that appellation the learned Camden confesses himself ignorant, so that the style carries no certain marks of its age. I shall only observe farther on this head, that the characters are nearly of the same form with those on King Arthur's coffin; but whe ther from their similitude we may venture to pronounce them of the same date, I must refer to the decision of better judges. Our inability to fix the age of this inscription necessarily infers our ignorance of its author, with relation to whom many controversies may be started worthy of the most profound learning, and most indefatigable diligence. The first question that naturally arises is, Whether he was a Briton or a Saxon? I had at first conceived some hope, that in this question, in which not only the idle curiosity of virtuosos, but the honour of two mighty nations, is concerned, some information might be drawn from the word Patria [my country] in the third line; England being not in propriety of speech the country of the Saxons; at least not at their first arrival. But upon farther reflection this argument appeared not conclusive, since we find that in all ages, foreigners have affected to call England their country, even when, like the Saxons of old, they came only to plunder it. An argument in favour of the Britons, may indeed be drawn from the tenderness with which the author seems to lament his country, and the compassion he shows for its approaching calaYet with all proper deference to a name so mities. I, who am a descendant from the SaxJustly celebrated, I will take the freedom of observing that he has succeeded better as a scholar derogatory from the reputation of my forefaons, and therefore unwilling to say any thing than a poet; having fallen below the strength, thers, must yet allow this argument its full the conciseness, and at the same time below the force: for it has been rarely, very rarely, perspicuity of his author. I shall not point out known that foreigners, however well treated, the particular passages in which this disparity is caressed, enriched, flattered, or exalted, have reremarkable, but content myself with saying in garded this country with the least gratitude or general, that the criticisms, which there is room affection, till the race has, by long continuance, for on this translation, may be almost an incite-after many generations, been naturalized and ment to some lawyer, studious of antiquity, to assimilated. learn Latin. The inscription, which I now proceed to consider, wants no arguments to prove its antiquity to those among the learned, who are versed in the writers of the darker ages, and know that the Latin poetry of those times was of a peculiar cast and air, not easy to be understood, and very difficult to be imitated, nor can it be conceived that any man would lay out his abilities on a way of writing, which though attained with prefer the petty interests of their own country, They have been ready upon all occasions to though perhaps only some desolate and worthless corner of the world. They have employed fend mud-wall towns, and uninhabitable rocks, the wealth of England, in paying troops to deand in purchasing barriers for territories, of which the natural sterility secured them from invasion. This argument, which wants no particular instances to confirm it, is, I confess, of the greatest weight in this question, and inclines me strongly to believe, that the benevolent author of this prediction must have been BORN a BRITON. The learned discoverer of the inscription was pleased to insist with great warmth upon the etymology of the word Patria, which signifying, says he, the land of my father, could be made use of by none, but such whose ancestors had resided here but in answer to this demonstra tion, as he called it, I only desired him to take notice, how common it is for intruders of yesterday, to pretend the same title with the ancient proprietors, and, having just received an estate by voluntary grant, to erect a claim of hereditary right. To condemn an opinion so agreeable to the reverence due to the regal dignity, and countenanced by so great authorities, without a long and accurate discussion, would be a temerity justly liable to the severest censures. A supercilious and arrogant determination of a controversy of such importance, would doubtless be treated by the impartial and candid with the utmost indignation. But as I have too high an idea of the learning of my contemporaries, to obtrude any crude, hasty, or indigested notions on the public, I have proceeded with the utmost degree of diffidence and caution; I have frequently reviewed all my arguments, traced them backwards to their first principles, and used every method of examination to discover whether all the deductions were natural and just, and whether I was not imposed on by some specious fallacy; but the farther I carried my inquiries, and the longer I dwelt upon this great point, the more was I convinced, in spite of all my prejudices, that this wonderful prediction was not written by a king. Nor is it less difficult to form any satisfactory conjecture, concerning the rank or condition of the writer, who, contented with a consciousness of having done his duty, in leaving this solemn warning to his country, seems studiously to have avoided that veneration, to which his knowledge of futurity undoubtedly entitled him, and those honours which his memory might justly claim from the gratitude of posterity, and has there-histories, memoirs, chronicles, lives, characters, fore left no trace, by which the most sagacious and diligent inquirer can hope to discover him. This conduct alone ought to convince us, that the prediction is of no small importance to mankind, since the author of it appears not to have been influenced by any other motive than that noble and exalted philanthropy, which is above the narrow views of recompense or applause. That interest had no share in this inscription, is evident beyond dispute, since the age in which he lived received neither pleasure nor instruction from it. Nor is it less apparent from the suppression of his name, that he was equally a stranger to that wild desire of fame, which has sometimes infatuated the noblest minds. His modesty, however, has not been able wholly to extinguish that curiosity, which so naturally leads us, when we admire a perform ance, to inquire after the author. Those whom I have consulted on this occasion, and my zeal for the honour of this benefactor of my country has not suffered me to forget a single antiquary of reputation, have almost unanimously determined, that it was written by a king. For where else, said they, are we to expect that greatness of mind, and that dignity of expression, so eminently conspicuous in this inscription? It is with a proper sense of the weakness of my own abilities, that I venture to lay before the public, the reasons which hinder me from concurring with this opinion, which I am not only inclined to favour by my respect for the authors of it, but by a natural affection for monarchy, and a prevailing inclination to believe, that every excellence is inherent in a king. For after a laborious and attentive perusal of vindications, panegyrics, and epitaphs, I could find no sufficient authority for ascribing to any of our English monarchs, however gracious or glorious, any prophetical knowledge or prescience of futurity: which, when we consider how rarely regal virtues are forgotten, how soon they are discovered, and how loudly they are celebrated, affords a probable argument at least, that none of them have laid any claim to this character. For why should historians have omitted to embellish their accounts with such a striking circumstance? or if the histories of that age are lost by length of time, why was not so uncommon an excellence transmitted to posterity in the more lasting colours of poetry? Was that unhappy age without a Laureat? Was there then no Young or Philips? no Ward or Mitchel, to snatch such wonders from oblivion, and immortalize a prince of such capacities? If this was really the case, let us congratulate ourselves upon being reserved for better days; days so fruitful of happy writers, that no princely virtue can shine in vain. Our monarchs are surrounded with refined spirits, so penetrating that they frequently discover in their masters great qualities invisible to vulgar eyes, and which, did not they publish them to mankind, would be unobserved for ever. Nor is it easy to find in the lives of our monarchs many instances of that regard for posterity, which seems to have been the prevailing temper of this venerable man. I have seldom in any of the gracious speeches delivered from the throne, and received with the highest gratitude and satisfaction by both Houses of Parliament, discovered any other concern than for the current year, for which supplies are generally demanded in very pressing terms, and sometimes such as imply no remarkable solicitude for posterity. Nothing indeed can be more unreasonable and absurd, than to require that a monarch, distracted with cares and surrounded with enemies, should involve himself in superfluous anxieties, by an unnecessary concern about future generations. Are not pretenders, mockpatriots, masquerades, operas, birth-nights, treaties, conventions, reviews, drawing-rooms, the births of heirs, and the deaths of queens, sufficient to overwhelm any capacity but that of a king? Surely he that acquits himself successfully of such affairs, may content himself with the glory he acquires, and leave posterity to his successors. That this has been the conduct of most princes, is evident from the accounts of all ages and nations; and therefore I hope it will not be thought that I have, without just reasons, deprived this inscription of the veneration it might demand as the work of a king. With what laborious struggles against prejudice and inclination, with what efforts of reasoning, and pertinacity of self-denial, I have prevailed upon myself to sacrifice the honour of this monument to the love of truth, none who are unacquainted with the fondness of a commentator will be able to conceive. But this instance will be, I hope, sufficient to convince the public, that I write with sincerity, and that, whatever my success may be, my intentions are good. Where we are to look for our author, it still remains to be considered; whether in the high road of public employments, or the bye-paths of private life. It has always been observed of those that frequent a court, that they soon, by a kind of contagion, catch the regal spirit of neglecting futurity. The minister forms an expedient to suspend or perplex an inquiry into his measures for a few months, and applauds and triumphs in his own dexterity. The peer puts off his creditor for the present day, and forgets that he is ever to see him more. The frown of a prince, and the loss of a pension, have indeed been found of wonderful efficacy, to abstract men's thoughts from the present time, and fill them with zeal for the liberty and welfare of ages to come. But I am inclined to think more favourably of the author of this prediction, than that he was made a patriot by disappointment or disgust. If he ever saw a court, I would willingly believe, that he did not owe his concern for posterity to his ill reception there, but his ill reception there to his concern for posterity. However, since truth is the same in the mouth of a hermit, or a prince, since it is not reason, but weakness, that makes us rate counsel by our esteem for the counsellor, let us at length desist from this inquiry, so useless in itself, in which we have room to hope for so little satisfaction. Let us show our gratitude to the author, by answering his intentions, by considering minutely the lines which he has left us, and examining their import without heat, precipitancy, or party-prejudices; let us endeavour to keep the just mean, between searching ambitiously for far-fetched interpretations, and admitting such low meaning, and obvious and low sense. as is inconsistent with those great and extensive views, which it is reasonable to ascribe to this excellent man. It may be yet farther asked, whether this inscription, which appears in the stone, be an original, and not rather a version of a traditional prediction in the old British tongue, which the zeal of some learned man prompted him to translate and engrave in a more known language for the instruction of future ages: but as the lines carry at the first view a reference both to the stone itself, and very remarkably to the place where it was found, I cannot see any foundation for such a suspicion. It remains now that we examine the scnse and import of the inscription, which, after having long dwelt upon it with the closest and most laborious attention, I must confess myself not yet able fully to comprehend. The following explications, therefore, are by no means laid down as certain and indubitable truths, but as conjectures not always wholly satisfactory even to myself, and which I had not dared to propose to so enlightened an age, an age which abounds with those great ornaments of human nature, sceptics, anti-moralists, and infidels, but with hopes that they would excite some person of greater abilities, to penetrate further into the oraculous obscurity of this wonderful prediction. Not even the four first lines are without their difficulties, in which the time of the discovery of the stone seems to be the time assigned for the events foretold by it. Cum lapidem hunc, magni Whene'er this stone, now hid beneath the lake, "When this stone," says he, "which now lies hid beneath the waters of a deep lake, shal be struck upon by the horse, or broken by the plough, then shalt thou, my country, be asto |