Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

from its roots. Think well on this, and remember thy neighbour in the mountains."

Having here inserted this letter, which I look

upon as the only antediluvian billet-doux now extant, I shall in my next paper give the answer to it, and the sequel of this story.

She had not been long among her own people in the valleys, when she received new overtures, and pach, who was a mighty man of old, and had built at the same time a most splendid visit from Misha great city, which he called after his own name. Every house was made for at least a thousand years, nay there were some that were leased out for three lives; so that the quantity of stone and timber consumed in this building is scarce to be imagined by

No. 585.] WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 25, 1714. those who live in the present age of the world. This

Ipsi lætitia voces ad sidera jactant

Intonsı montes: ipsæ jam carmina rupes,
Ipsa sonant arbusta.

VIRG. Ecl. v. 68.
The mountain-tops unshorn, the rocks rejoice;
The lowly shrubs partake of human voice.-DRYDEN.
THE SEQUEL OF THE STORY OF SHALUM AND HILPA.
THE letter inserted in my last had so good an
effect upon Hilpa, that she answered it in less than
twelve months after the following manner :-

:

Hilpa, Mistress of the Valleys, to Shalum, Master of Mount Tirzah.

"In the 789th year of the creation.

He

great man entertained her with the voice of musical
instruments which had been lately invented, and
danced before her to the sound of the timbrel.
also presented her with several domestic utensils
wrought in brass and iron, which had been newly
found out for the conveniency of life. In the mean
time Shalum grew very uneasy with himself, and
was sorely displeased at Hilpa for the reception
which she had given to Mishpach, insomuch that be
never wrote to her or spoke of her during a whole
revolution of Saturn; but finding that this inter-
course went no further than a visit, he again re-
newed bis addresses to her; who, during his long
silence, is said very often to have cast a wishing eye

upon mount Tirzah.

"What have I to do with thee, O Shalum? Thou praisest Hilpa's beauty, but art thou not secretly Her mind continued wavering about twenty years enamoured with the verdure of her meadows? Art longer between Shalum and Mishpach; for though thou not more affected with the prospect of her green her inclinations favoured the former, her interest valleys than thou wouldest be with the sight of her pleaded very powerfully for the other. While her person? The lowings of my herds and the bleating heart was in this unsettled condition, the following of my flocks make a pleasant echo in thy mountains, accident happened, which determined her choice. and sound sweetly in thy ears. What though I am A high tower of wood that stood in the city of Mishdelighted with the wavings of thy forests, and those pach having caught fire by a flash of lightning, in breezes of perfumes which flow from the top of Tir- a few days reduced the whole town to ashes. Mishzah, are these like the riches of the valley? pach resolved to rebuild the place, whatever it should timber of the country, he was forced to have recourse cost him; and, having already destroyed all the to Shalum, whose forests were now two hundred years old. He purchased these woods with so many herds of cattle and flocks of sheep, and with such a vast extent of fields and pastures, that Shalum was now grown more wealthy than Mishpach; and therefore appeared so charming in the eyes of Zilpah's daughter, that she no longer refused him in marriage. On the day on which he brought her up into the mountains he raised a most prodigious pile of cedar, and of every sweet-smelling wood, which reached about three hundred cubits in height: be also cast into the pile bundles of myrrh and sheaves of spikenard, enriching it with every spicy shrub, and making it fat with the gums of his plantations. This was the burnt-offering which Shalum offered in the day of his espousals; the smoke of it ascended up to heaven, and filled the whole country with incense and perfume.

“I know thee, O Shalum; thou art more wise and happy than any of the sons of men. Thy dwellings are among the cedars: thou searchest out the diversity of soils: thou understandest the influences of the stars, and markest the change of seasons. Can a woman appear lovely in the eyes of such a one? Disquiet me not, O Shalum; let me alone, that I may enjoy those goodly possessions which are fallen to my lot. Win me not by thy enticing words. May thy trees increase and multiply; mayest thou add wood to wood, and shade to shade; but tempt not Hilpa to destroy thy solitude, and make thy retirement populous."

The Chinese say that a little time afterward she accepted of a treat in one of the neighbouring hills, to which Shalum had invited her. This treat lasted for two years, and is said to have cost Shalum tive hundred antelopes, two thousand ostriches, and a thousand tuns of milk; but what most of all recommended it, was that variety of delicious fruits and potherbs, in which no person then living could any way equal Shalum.

He treated her in the bower which he had planted amidst the wood of nightingales. The wood was made up of such fruit-trees and plants as are most agreeable to the several kinds of singing birds; so that it had drawn into it all the music of the country, and was filled from one end of the year to the other with the most agreeable concert in season.

He showed her every day some beautiful and surprising scene in this new region of woodlands; and, as by this means he had all the opportunities he could wish for of opening his mind to her, he succeeded so well, that upon her departure she made him a kind of a promise, and gave him her word to return to him a positive answer in less than fifty

years,

[blocks in formation]
[ocr errors]

been content to have gone to bed without the other bottle; believe me these effects of fancy are no contemptible consequences of commanding or indulging one's appetite.

that day, and so discover what actions were worthy of pursuit to-morrow, and what little vices were to be prevented from slipping unawares into a habit. If I might second the philosopher's advice, it should be mine, that in a morning before my scholar rose "I forbear recommending my advice upon many he should consider what he had been about that other accounts, until I hear how you and your readnight, and with the same strictness as if the condi-ers relish what I have already said; among whom, if tion he has believed himself to be in was real. Such there be any that may pretend it is useless to them, a scrutiny into the actions of his fancy must be of because they never dream at all, there may be others considerable advantage; for this reason, because perhaps who do little else all day long. Were every the circumstances which a man imagines himself in one as sensible as I am what happens to him in his during sleep are generally such as entirely favour sleep, it would be no dispute whether we pass so conhis inclinations, good or bad, and give him imagi- siderable a portion of our time in the condition of nary opportunities of pursuing them to the utmost: stocks and stones, or whether the soul were not perso that his temper will lie fairly open to his view, petually at work upon the principle of thought. while he considers how it is moved when free from However, it is an honest endeavour of mine to per. those constraints which the accidents of real life suade my countrymen to reap some advantage from put it under. Dreams are certainly the result of so many unregarded hours, and as such you will our waking thoughts, and our daily hopes and fears encourage it. are what give the mind such nimble relishes of pleasure, and such severe touches of pain, in its midnight rambles. A man that murders his enemy, or deserts his friend, in a dream, had need to guard his temper against revenge and ingratitude, and take heed that he be not tempted to do a vile thing in the pursuit of false, or the neglect of true honour. For my part, I seldom receive a benefit, but in a night or two's time I make most noble returns for "There is scarcely a great post but what I have it; which, though my benefactor is not a whit the some time or other been in; but my behaviour while better for, yet it pleases me to think that it was from I was master of a college pleases me so well, that a principle of gratitude in me that my mind was whenever there is a province of that nature vacant, susceptible of such generous transport while II intend to step in as soon as I can. thought myself repaying the kindness of my friend : and I have often been ready to beg pardon, instead of returning an injury, after considering that when the offender was in my power I had carried my resentments much too far.

"I think it has been observed, in the course of your papers, how much one's happiness or misery may depend upon the imagination: of which truth those strange workings of fancy in sleep are no inconsiderable instances; so that not only the advantage a man has of making discoveries of himself, but a regard to his own ease or disquiet, may induce him to accept of my advice. Such as are willing to comply with it, I shall put into a way of doing it with pleasure, by observing only one maxim which I shall give them, viz. To go to bed with a mind entirely free from passion, and a body clear of the least intemperance.'

[ocr errors]

"They, indeed, who can sink into sleep with their thoughts less calm or innocent than they should be, do but plunge themselves into scenes of guilt and misery; or they who are willing to purchase any midnight disquietudes for the satisfaction of a full meal, or a skin full of wine; these I have nothing to say to, as not knowing how to invite them to reflections full of shame and horror: but those that will observe this rule, I promise them they shall awake into health and cheerfulness, and be capable of recounting with delight those glorious moments, wherein the mind has been indulging itself in such luxury of thought, such noble hurry of imagination. Suppose a man's going supperless to bed should introduce him to the table of some great prince or other, where he shall be entertained with the noblest marks of honour and plenty, and do so much business after, that he shall rise with as good a stomach to his breakfast as if he had fasted all night long: or suppose he should see his dearest friends remain all night in great distresses, which he should instantly have disengaged them from, could he have

"I shall conclude with giving you a sketch or two of my way of proceeding.

"If I have any business of consequence to do toinorrow, I am scarce dropt asleep to-night but I am in the midst of it; and when awake, I consider the whole procession of the affair, and get the advantage of the next day's experience before the sun has risen upon it.

"I have done many things that would not pass examination, when I have had the art of flying or being invisible; for which reason I am glad I am not possessed of those extraordinary qualities.

"Lastly, Mr. Spectator, I have been a great correspondent of yours, and have read many of my letters in your paper which I never wrote to you. If you have a mind I should really be so, I have got a parcel of visions and other miscellanies in my noctuary, which I shall send you to enrich your paper with on proper occasions. "I am, &c. "JOHN SHADOW."

"Oxford, Aug. 20.

No. 587.] MONDAY, AUGUST 30, 1714.

Intus et in cute novi.-PERS. Sat. iii. 30. I know thee to thy bottom; from within Thy shallow centre to the utmost skin-DRYDEN. THOUGH the author of the following vision is unknown to me, I am apt to think it may be the work of that ingenious gentleman, who promised me, in the last paper, some extracts out of his noctuary.

"SIR,

"I was the other day reading the life of Mahomet. Among many other extravagances, I find it recorded of that impostor, that in the fourth year of his age, the angel Gabriel caught him up while he was among his playfellows; and, carrying him aside, cut open bis breast, plucked out his heart, and wrung out of it that black drop of blood, in which, say the Turkish divines, is contained the fomes peccati, so that he was free from sin ever after. I immediately said to myself, Though this story be a fiction, a very good moral may be drawn from it, would every man but apply it to himself, and endeavour to squeeze out of his heart whatever sins or ill quali ties he find in it.

"While my mind was wholly taken up with this

contemplation, I insensibly fell into a most pleasing slumber, when methought two porters entered my chamber, carrying a large chest between them. After having set it down in the middle of the room they departed. I immediately endeavoured to open what was sent me, when a shape, like that in which we paint our angels, appeared before me, and forbade me. • Enclosed,' said he, are the hearts of several of your friends and acquaintance; but, be fore you can be qualified to see and animadvert on the failings of others, you must be pure yourself:' whereupon he drew out his incision knife, cut me open, took out my heart, and began to squeeze it. I was in a great confusion to see how many things, which I had always cherished as virtues,, issued out of my heart on this occasion. In short, after it had been thoroughly squeezed, it looked like an empty bladder; when the phantom, breathing a fresh particle of divine air into it, restored it safe to its former repository; and, having sewed me up, we began to examine the chest.

The hearts were all enclosed in transparent phials, and preserved in a liquor which looked like spirits of wine. The first which I cast my eye upon I was afraid would have broke the glass which contained it. It shot up and down, with incredible swiftness, through the liquor in which it swam, and very frequently bounced against the side of the phial. The fomes, or spot in the middle of it, was not large, but of a red fiery colour, and seemed to be the cause of these violent agitations. That,' says my instructor, is the heart of Tom Dreadnought, who behaved himself well in the late wars, but has for these ten years last past been aiming at some post of honour to no purpose. He is lately retired into the country, where, quite choked up with spleen and choler, he rails at better men than himself, and will be for ever uneasy, because it is impossible he should think his merits sufficiently rewarded.' The next heart that I examined was remarkable for its smallness; it lay still at the bottom of the phial, and I could hardly perceive that it beat at all. The fomes was quite black, and had almost diffused itself over the whole heart. This,' says my interpreter, is the heart of Dick Gloomy, who never thirsted after any thing but money. Notwithstanding all his endeavours, he is still poor. This has flung him into a most deplorable state of melancholy and despair. He is a composition of envy and idleness: hates mankind, but gives them their revenge by being more uneasy to himself than to any one else.'

"The phial I looked upon next contained a large fair heart which beat very strongly. The fomes or spot in it was exceedingly small; but I could not help observing, that which way soever I turned the phial, it always appeared uppermost, and in the strongest point of light. The heart you are examining,' says my companion, belongs to Will Worthy. He has, indeed, a most noble soul, and is possessed of a thousand good qualities. The speck which you discover is vanity.'

"Here,' says the angel, is the heart of Freelove, your intimate friend.'- Freelove and I,' said I, are at present very cold to one another, and I do not care for looking on the heart of a man which I fear is overcast with rancour.' My teacher commanded me to look upon it: I did so, and to my unspeakable surprise, found that a small swelling spot, which I at first took to be ill-will towards me, was only passion; and that upon my nearer inspection it wholly disappeared; upon which the phantom

told me Freelove was one of the best natured men alive.

"This,' says my teacher, is a female heart of your acquaintance.' I found the fomes in it of the largest size, and of a hundred different colours, which were still varying every moment. Upon my asking to whom it belonged, I was informed that it was the heart of Coquetilla.

"I set it down, and drew out another, in which I took the fomes at first sight to be very small, but was amazed to find that, as I looked steadfastly upon it, it grew still larger. It was the heart of Melissa, a noted prude, who lives the next door to me.

"I show you this,' says the phantom, because it is indeed a rarity, and you have the happiness to know the person to whom it belongs.' He then put into my hands a large crystal glass, that enclosed a heart, in which, though I examined it with the ut most nicety, I could not perceive any blemish. I made no scruple to affirm that it must be the heart of Seraphina; and was glad, but not surprised, to find that it was so. 'She is indeed,' continued my guide, the ornament as well as the envy of her sex.' At these last words he pointed to the hearts of several of her female acquaintance which lay in different phials, and had very large spots in them, all of a deep blue. You are not to wonder,' says he, that you see no spot in a heart, whose innocence has been proof against all the corruptions of a depraved age. If it has any blemish, it is too small to be discovered by human eyes.'

[ocr errors]

"I laid it down, and took up the hearts of other females, in all of which the fomes ran in several veins, which were twisted together, and made a very perplexed figure. I asked the meaning of it, and was told it represented deceit.

"I should have been glad to have examined the hearts of several of my acquaintance, whom I knew to be particularly addicted to drinking, gaming, intriguing, &c., but my interpreter told me I must let that alone until another opportunity, and flung down the cover of the chest with so much violence as immediately awoke me."

No. 588.] WEDNESDAY, SEPT. 1, 1714
Dicitis, omnis in imbecillitate est et gratia, et caritas.

CICERO.
You pretend that all kindness and benevolence is
founded in weakness.

MAN may be considered in two views, as a reasonable and as a sociable being; capable of becoming himself either happy or miserable, and ot contributing to the happiness or misery of his ferlow-creatures. Suitably to this double capacity, the Contriver of human nature hath wisely furnished t with two principles of action, self-love and benevo lence; designed one of them to render man wakefu. to his own personal interest, the other to dispose į him for giving his utmost assistance to all engaged | in the same pursuit. This is such an account of our frame, so agreeable to reason, so much for the honour of our Maker, and the credit of our species, that it may appear somewhat unaccountable wast should induce men to represent human nature as they do under characters of disadvantage; or having drawn it with a little and sordid aspect, what picasure they can possibly take in such a picture." I they reflect that it is their own, and, if we will be lieve themselves, is not me odious than the orignal? One of the first that talked in this lofty stran of our nature was Epicurus. Beneficence would

stinct, prompting men to desire the welfare and sa tisfaction of others, self-love, in defiance of the admonitions of reason, would quickly run all things into a state of war and confusion. As nearly interested as the soul is in the fate of the body, our provident Creator saw it necessary, by the constant returns of hunger and thirst, those importunate ap-, petites, to put it in mind of its charge: knowing that if we should eat and drink no oftener thau cold ab.. stracted speculation should put us upon these exercises, and then leave it to reason to prescribe the quantity, we should soon refine ourselves out of this bodily life. And, indeed, it is obvious to remark,. that we follow nothing heartily, unless carried to it by inclinations which anticipate our reason, and, like a bias, draw the mind strongly towards it. In order, therefore, to establish a perpetual intercourse of benefits among mankind, their Maker would not nevolence, if, as I have said, it were possible. And from whence can we go about to argue its impossibility? Is it inconsistent with self-love? Are their motions contrary? No more than the diurual rotation of the earth is opposed to its annual; or its motion round its own centre, which might be im proved as an illustration of self-love, to that which whirls it about the common centre of the world, answering to universal benevolence. Is the force of self-love abated, or its interest prejudiced, by benevolence? So far from it, that benevolence, though a distinct principle, is extremely serviceable to selflove, and then doth most service when it is least designed.

his followers say, is all founded in weakness; and, whatever be pretended, the kindness that passeth between men and men is by every man directed to himself. This, it must be confessed, is of a piece with the rest of that hopeful philosophy, which, having patched man up out of the four elements, attributes his being to chance, and derives all his actions from an unintelligible declination of atoms. And for these glorious discoveries the poet is beyond measure transported in the praises of his hero, as if he must needs be something more than man, only for an endeavour to prove that man is in nothing superior to beasts. In this school was Mr. Hobbes instructed to speak after the same manner, if he did not rather draw his knowledge from an observation of his own temper; for he somewhere unluckily lays down this as a rule, that from the similitudes of thoughts and passions of one man to the thoughts and passions of another, whosoever looks into him-fail to give them this generous prepossession of beself and considers what he doth when he thinks, hopes, fears, &c., and upon what grounds, he shall hereby read and know what are the thoughts and passions of all other men upon the like occasion. Now we will allow Mr. Hobbes to know best how he was inclined; but in earnest, I should be heartily out of conceit with myself if I thought myself of this unamiable temper as he affirms, and should have as little kindness for myself as for any body in the world. Hitherto I always imagined that kind and benevolent propensions were the original growth of the heart of man; and, however checked and overtopped by counter-inclinations that have since sprung up within us, have still some force in the worst of tempers, and a considerable influence on the best. And methinks it is a fair step towards the proof of this, that the most beneficent of all beings is he who hath an absolute fulness of perfection in himself, who gave existence to the universe, and so cannot be supposed to want that which he communicated, without diminishing from the plenitude of his own power and happiness. The philosophers before mentioned have indeed done all that in them lay to invalidate this argument; for, placing the gods in a state of the most elevated blessedness, they describe them as selfish as we poor miserable mortals can be, and shut them out from all concern for mankind, upon the score of their having no need of us. But if He that sitteth in the heavens wants not us, we stand in continual need of him; and, surely, next to the survey of the immense treasures of his own mind, the most exalted pleasure he receives is from beholding millions of creatures, lately drawn out of the gulf of non-existence, rejoicing in the various degrees of being and happiness imparted to them. And as this is the true, the glorious character of the Deity, so in forming a reasonable creature he would not, if possible, suffer his image to pass out of his hands unadorned with a resemblance of himself in this most lovely part of his nature. For what complacency could a mind, whose love is as unbounded as his knowledge, have in a work so unlike himself; a creature that should be capable of knowing and conversing with a vast circle of objects, and love none but himself? What proportion would there be between the head and the heart of such a creature, its affections, and its understanding? Or could a society of such creatures, with no other bottom but self-love on which to maintain a commerce, ever flourish? Reason, it is certain, would oblige every man to pursue the general happiness as the means to procure and establish his own; and yet, if besides this consideration, there were not a natural in

But to descend from reason to matter of fact; the pity which arises on sight of persons in distress, and the satisfaction of mind which is the consequence of having removed them into a happier state, are instead of a thousand arguments to prove such a thing as a disinterested benevolence. Did pity proceed from a reflection we make upon our liableness to the same ill accidents we see befal others, it were nothing to the present purpose; but this is assigning an artificial cause of a natural passion, and can by no means be admitted as a tolerable account of it, because children and persons most thoughtless about their own condition, and incapable of entering into the prospects of futurity, feel the most violent touches of compassion. And then, as to that charming delight which immediately follows the giving joy to another, or relieving his sorrow, and is, when the objects are numerous, and the kindness of importance, really inexpressible, what can this be owing to but a consciousness of a man's having done something praiseworthy, and expressive of a great soul? Whereas, if in all this he only sacrificed to vanity and self-love, as there would be nothing brave in actions that make the most shining appearance, so nature would not have rewarded them with this divine pleasure; nor could the commendations, which a person receives for benefits done upon selfish views, be at all more satisfactory than when he is applauded for what he doth without design; because in both cases the ends of self-love are equally answered. The conscience of approving one's self a benefactor to mankind is the noblest recompense for being so; doubtless it is, and the most interested cannot propose any thing so much to their own advantage; notwithstanding which, the inclination is nevertheless unselfish. The pleasure which attends the gratification of our hunger and thirst is not the cause of these appetites; they are previous to any such prospect; and so likewise is the desire of doing good;

with this difference, that, being seated in the intellectual part, this last, though antecedent to reason, may yet be improved and regulated by it; and, I will add, is no otherwise a virtue than as it is so. Thus have I contended for the dignity of that nature I have the honour to partake of: and, after all the evidence produced, think I have a right to conclude, against the motto of this paper, that there is such a thing as generosity in the world. Though, if I were under a mistake in this, I should say as Cicero in relation to the immortality of the soul, I willingly err, and should believe it very much for the interest of mankind to lie under the same delusion. For the contrary notion naturally tends to dispirit the mind, and sinks it into a meanness fatal to the godlike zeal of doing good: as, on the other hand, it teaches people to be ungrateful, by possessing them with a persuasion concerning their benefactors, that they have no regard to them in the benefits they bestow. Now he that banishes gratitude from among men, by so doing, stops up the stream of beneficence: for though in conferring kindnesses a truly generous man doth not aim at a return, yet he looks to the qualities of the person obliged; and as nothing renders a person more unworthy of a benefit than his being without all resentment of it, he will not be extremely forward to oblige such a man.

No. 589.] FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 1714.
Persequitur scelus ille suum: labefactaque tandem
Ictibus innumeris, adductaque funibus arbor
Corruit-
Ovin, Met. viii. 774

The impious axe he plies, loud strokes resound:
Till dragg'd with ropes, and fell'd with many a wound,
The looseu'd tree comes rushing to the ground.

"SIR,

"I AM so great an admirer of trees, that the spot of ground I have chosen to build a small seat upon in the country is almost in the midst of a large wood. I was obliged, much against my will, to cut down several trees, that I might have any such thing as a walk in my gardens; but then I have taken care to leave the space between every walk as much a wood as I found it. The moment you turn either to the right or left you are in a forest, where nature presents you with a much more beautiful scene than could have been raised by art.

"Instead of tulips or carnations I can show you oaks in my gardens of four hundred years' standing, and a knot of elms that might shelter a troop of horse from the rain.

"It is not without the utmost indignation, that I observe several prodigal young heirs in the neighbourhood felling down the most glorious monuments of their ancestor's industry, and ruining, in a day, the product of ages.

"I am mightily pleased with your discourse upon planting, which put me upon looking into my books, to give you some account of the veneration the ancients had for trees. There is an old tradition that Abraham planted a cypress, a pine, and a cedar; and that these three incorporated into one tree, which was cut down for the building of the temple of Solomon.

"Isidorus, who lived in the reign of Constantius, assures us, that he saw, even in his time, that famous oak in the plains of Mamre, under which Abraham is reported to have dwelt; and adds, that the people looked upon it with a great veneration, and preserved it as a sacred tree.

"The heathens still went further, and regarded

it as the highest piece of sacrilege to injure certain trees which they took to be protected by some deity. The story of Erisicthon, the grove of Dodona, and that at Delphi, are all instances of this kind.

"If we consider the machine in Virgil, so much blamed by several critics, in this light, we shall hardly think it too violent.

"Aneas, when he built his fleet in order to sail for Italy, was obliged to cut down the grove on mount Ida, which however he durst not do until he had obtained leave from Cybele, to whom it was dedicated. The goddess could not but think herself obliged to protect the ships, which were made of consecrated timber, after a very extraordinary manner, and therefore desired Jupiter, that they might not be obnoxious to the power of waves or winds. Jupiter would not grant this, but promised her that as many as came safe to Italy should be transformed into goddesses of the sea; which the poet teils us was accordingly executed.

And now at length the number'd hours were come,
Prefix'd by Fate's irrevocable doom,
When the great mother of the gods was free
To save her ships, and finish Jove's decree.
First, from the quarter of the morn there sprung
A light that sing d the heavens, and shot along:
Then from a cloud, fring'd round with golden fires,
Were timbrels heard, and Berecynthiau quires:
And last a voice, with more than mortal sounds,
Both hosts in arms opposed with equal horror wounds.
O Trojan race, your needless aid forbear:
And know my ships are my peculiar care.
With greater ease the bold Rutulian may
With hissing brands attempt to burn the sea,

Than singe my sacred pines. But you, my charge,
Loos'd from your crooked anchors, launched at large,
Exalted each a nymph; forsake the sand,

And swim the seas, at Cybele's command."

No sooner had the goddess ceased to speak.

When lo, th' obedient ships their hawsers break!
And strange to tell, like dolphins in the main,
They plunge their prows, and dive and spring again:
As many beauteous maids the billows sweep,
As rode before tall essels on the deep.

DRYDEN'S VIRG.

"The common opinion concerning the nymphs, whom the ancients called Hamadryads, is more to the honour of trees than any thing yet mentioned, i It was thought the fate of these nymphs had so near a dependance on some trees, more especially oaks, that they lived and died together. For this reason they were extremely grateful to such persons who preserved those trees with which ther being sub sisted. Apollonius tells us a very remarkable story to this purpose, with which I shall conclude my letter.

"A certain man, called Rhæcus, observing an old oak ready to fall, and being moved with a sort of compassion towards the tree, ordered his servants to pour in fresh earth at the roots of it, and set it upright. The Hamadryad, or nymph, who must se cessarily have perished with the tree, appeared to him the next day, and, after having returned him her thanks, told him she was ready to grant whatever he should ask. As she was extremely beauti el, ' Rhæcus desired he might be entertained as ber lover. The Hamadryad, not much displeased with the request, promised to give him a meeting, but commanded him for some days to abstain from the embraces of all other women, adding, that she would send a bee to him, to let him know when a was to be happy, Rhecus was, it seems, too mura addicted to gaming, and happened to be in a rus ill-luck when the faith ul bee came buzzing abe a him; so that, instead of minding his kind.ava tion, he had like to have killed him for his pro The Hamadryad was so provoked at her own das

« AnteriorContinuar »