Bid the fond youth the falfe feducer fly,

Point at the fnare, and mark the Syren nigh;
Quafh the fad figh, affwage the troubled breaft,
Compofe the fluttering heart, and give it reft.
Effential beauty tastelefs fops neglect,

But to her attributes pay great refpect;
O'er a complexion drefs has oft prevail'd,
A hoop has caught them, when a face has fail'd.
Hence light coquets affume their pow'r to reign,
And with pretended ease cause real pain;
By ftratagem to win th' unwary heart,
What nature has deny'd,: they feek from art.
See the dull Freshman just arriv'd from school,
(A coxcomb rip'ning from a rustic fool)
Whilft in his fabbath-fuit he treads the mall,
Staring, and ftar'd at too alike by all,
If a bewitching Syren catch his eyes,
In his wrapt breast poetic transports rise;
Straight, the pert fønnet frames her all divine,
Bids her a Mufe, a Grace, a Venus fhine.

Thanks to my ftars, coquets I coolly view,
And (more furprizing) ftigmatize them too;
Whilft real worth the mufe fhall give to fame,
And ftamp on adamant a lasting name.-

Is there a nymph (hither ye bards repair,
Behold a subject worthy of your care,)
Is there a nymph, whom perfect beauty fires,
With all the genius fraught of all her fires,
In whom chaste modefty, gay youth is seen,
The DIAN blended with the Cyprian Queen,
In whom the charming oppofites agree,
Is there a nymph?-and is not LETTY fhe?

Wadham Coll. Oxon.

END of the fixth number.

J. S,.

I

By Archbishop TILLOTSON.

SIR,

Am forry to understand by Mr. J's letter to your

fon that your distemper grows upon you, and that you decline so fast. I am very fenfible how much easier it is to give advice against a trouble in the cafe of another, than to take it in our own. It hath pleased God of late to exercise me with a very fore trial in the lofs of my dear and only child; in which I do fubmit to his good pleasure, firmly believing that he always does what is best. And yet, though reafon be fatisfy'd, our paffion is not fo foon appeased; for when nature has received a wound, time must be allowed for Numb. VII.

I h

the

the healing of it. God hath thought fit to give me a nearer fummons and a clofer warning of my mortality in the danger of an apoplexy, which has occafioned very many melancholy reflections; but thefe perhaps are more owing to natural temper than to philofophy and wife confiderations. Your life, I know, is very different, who are of a temper naturally melancholy, and under a diftemper apt to encrease it, for both which great allowances must be made.

And yet,

methinks, both reason and religion do fuggeft to us confiderations of that strength and folidity, that we may very well fupport our spirits under all the frailties and infirmities of the flesh, fuch as thefe ;that God is love and perfect goodness; that we are not only his creatures but his children, and as dear to him as to ourselves; that he does not willingly afflict or grieve the fons of men, and that all evils and afflictions, which befall us, are intended for the cure and prevention of greater evils, i. e. of fin and punishment, and therefore we ought to submit to them with thankfulness, as being defigned by God to do us that good and to bring us to that fenfe of him and ourselves, which perhaps nothing elfe would have done. The fufferings of this present life are but fhort and flight, when compared with that extreme and endless mifery, which we have deserved, and with that exceeding and eternal weight of glory, which we hope for in another world. If we be careful to make the best preparation we can for death and eternity, whatever brings us nearer to our end, brings us nearer to our happiness; and how rugged foever the way be, the comfort is, that it leads to our father's house, where we shall want nothing that our hearts can defire, or our imaginations conceive. When we labour under a dangerous diftemper that threatens our diffolution, what would we not be content to undergo in order to perfect recovery, could we be affured of it? And should we not be willing to endure much more in order to that happi ness and that eternal life, which God, that cannot lye, has promised.

Nature

Nature, we know, is fond of life; and yet a long life with the ufual infirmities of it is feldom defireable. It is but the fame things over again or worse, fo many more days and nights, fummers and winters, a repetition of the fame pleafures, but with less pleasure and relish every day, a return of the fame or greater pains and troubles, but with less patience and strength to bear them. These and the like confiderations I use to entertain myself withal, and not only with contentment but with comfort, tho' with great inequality of temper and much mixture of human frailty, which will always stick to us, while we are in this vale of tears. Howfoever by these kind of thoughts death becomes more familiar to us, and we shall be able by degrees to bring our minds close up to it without startling at it.

Your death, you fay, will very fenfibly touch fome of your near relations, and particularly the dear and conftant companion of your life. But you may confider (and fo I hope they will alfo) that this feparation will be but for a little time, and tho' you leave them in a bad world, yet under the care and protection of a good God, who can be more and better to them than all other relations, and will certainly be fo to them, that love him and hope in his mercy

I need not advise you what to do, and what use to make of this time of your vifitation. I have reafon to think, that you have been careful in the time of your health to prepare for this evil day, and have been converfant in those books which give the best directions for this purpose, and have not, as too many do, put off the great work of repentance to the end of your life. And then you have nothing to do at present, but, as well as you can, to undergo your weakness and afflictions; to renew your repentance for all the errors and mifcarriages of your life, and earnestly to beg God's pardon and forgivenefs, for his fake, who is the propitiation for our fins; to comfort yourself in the goodness and promises of God, and the hopes of that happiness you are ready to enter upon. Exercise faith and patience for a little time, and be of good

courage, fince you fee land; the ftorm you are in will quickly be over, and then it will be, as if it had never been, or rather the remembrance of it will be pleasure and comfort.

It is not usual with me to write fuch long letters; but I do heartily compaffionate your cafe, and should be glad, if I could fuggeft any thing that might help to mitigate your trouble, and make that sharp and rough way, through which you are paffing into another world, a little more smooth and eafy. I pray God to fit us both for that great change, which we muft once undergo; and if we be prepared for it, fooner or later it makes no great difference. Farewell, my good friend, and while we are here, let us pray for one another, that we may have a joyful meeting in another world.

Ireft, Sir, your truly affectionate friend and fervant,

JOHN TILLOTSON,

T

Mr. STUDENT,

HE following letter being a very curious original in its way, you are at liberty to infert it in your Mifcellany, if you think it will prove diverting to your readers.

Yours, &c.

Parkplace, Nov. 2, 1746.

SIR,

PE

Erceiving your defire to know how I paft my time in Pembrokeshire, I here present you with an account of my proceedings in a progress I lately made to a gentleman's house purely to procure a plan of it.

I proceeded in a party of pleasure with Mr. PRATT of Pickton-Castle, Mr. PowEL of Penally, and Mr. PUGH of Purley, to go and dine with Mr. PRITCHARD of Poftmain; which was readily agreed to, and foon put in practice.

However