measure, who might think it perhaps a measure more bountiful than prudent. But I have had my sufficient reward, though not a pecuniary one. It is a Poem of much humour, and accordingly I found the translation of it very amusing. It struck me too, that I must either make it part of the present publication, or never publish it at all; it would have been so terribly out of its place in any other volume.

I long for the time that shall bring you once more to Weston, and all your et cetera's with you. Oh! what a month of May has this been! Let never Poet, English Poet at least, give himself to the praises of May again.

THE JUDGMENT OF THE POETS.

Two Nymphs, both nearly of an age,

Of numerous charms possess'd,
A warm dispute once chanc'd to wage,
Whose temper was the best.

The worth of each had been complete,
Had both alike been mild;

But one, although her smile was sweet,

Frown'd oft'ner than she smil'd.

W. C.

And

And in her humour, when she frown'd, Would raise her voice, and roar; And shake with fury, to the ground, The garland that she wore.

The other was of gentler cast,

From all such frenzy clear;

Her frowns were seldom known to last,
And never prov'd severe.

To Poets of renown in song,

The Nymphs referr'd the cause, Who, strange to tell, all judg'd it wrong, And gave misplac'd applause.

They gentle call'd, and kind, and soft,
The flippant, and the scold;
And though she chang'd her mood so oft,
That failing left untold.

No judges, sure, were e'er so mad,
Or so resolv'd to err:

In short, the charms her Sister had,
They lavish'd all on her.

Then thus the God, whom fondly they,

Their great inspirer call,

Was heard, one genial summer's day,

To reprimand them all.

If it will afford you any comfort that

you have a share in my affections, of that comfort you may avail yourself at all times. You have acquired it by means which, unless I should become worthless myself, to an uncommon degree, will always secure you from the loss of it. You are learning what all learn, though few at so early an age, that man is an ungrateful animal; and that benefits too often, instead of securing a due return, operate rather as provocations to ill treatment. This I take to be the Summum malum of the human heart. Towards God we are all guilty of it, more or less; but between man and man, we

may

may thank God for it, there are some exceptions. He leaves this peccant principle to operate, in some degree against himself, in all, for our humiliation, I suppose; and because the pernicious effects of it cannot, in reality, injure him; he cannot suffer by them; but he knows, that unless he should restrain its influence on the dealings of mankind with each other, the bonds of society would be dissolved, and all charitable intercourse at an end amongst us. was said of Archbishop Cranmer, "Do him an ill-turn, and you make him your friend for ever;" of others it may be said, "Do them a good one, and they will be for ever your enemies." It is the Grace of God only, that makes the difference.

It

The absence of Homer, (for we have now shaken hands and parted) is well supplied by three relations of mine from Norfolk. My Cousin Johnson, an Aunt of his, and his Sister. I love them all dearly, and am well contented to resign to them the place in my attentions, so lately occupied by the Chiefs of Greece and Troy. His Aunt and I have spent many a merry day together, when we were some forty years younger; and we make shift to be merry together still. His Sister is a sweet young woman, graceful, goodnatured, and gentle, just what I had imagined her to be before I had seen her.

Farewell!

W. C.

The

The occurrences related in the series of Letters, that I have just imparted to my Reader, have now brought me to the close of the second period in my work. As I contemplated the life of my friend, it seemed to display itself in three obvious divisions; the first ending with the remarkable æra, when he burst forth on the world, as a Poet, in his fiftieth year; on which occasion we may apply to him the lively compliment of Waller to Denham, and say, with superior truth, "He burst out like the Irish Rebellion, threescore thousand strong, when nobody was aware, or in the least suspected it." The second division may conclude with the publication of his Homer; comprising the incidents of ten splendid and fruitful years, that may be regarded as the meridian of his poetical career. The subsequent period extends to that awful event which terminates every labour of the Poet and the Man.

We have seen in many of the preceding Letters, with what ardour of application and liveliness of hope, he devoted himself to his favourite project of enriching the literature of his country with an English Homer, that might be justly esteemed as a faithful, yet free Translation; a genuine and graceful representative of the justly idolized original.

After five years of intense and affectionate labour, in which nothing could withold him from his interesting work, except that oppressive and cruel malady, which suspended his powers of application for several months, he published his complete Version in

VOL. I.

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two