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dies; in which however the chorus so far remembered its first office, as to brand every thing that was vicious, and recommend every thing that was laudable, to intercede with Heaven for the innocent, and to implore its vengeance on the criminal,
Homer and Hesiod intimate to us how this art should be applied, when they represent the muses as surrounding Jupiter, and warbling their hymns about his throne. I might show, from innumerable passages in ancient writers, not only that vocal and instrumental music were made use of in their religious worship, but that their most favourite diversions were filled with songs and hymns to their respective deities. Had we frequent entertainments of this nature among us, they would not a little purify and exalt our passions, give our thoughts a proper turn, and cherish those divine impulses in the soul, which every one feels that has not stifled them by sensual and immoral pleasures.
Music, when thus applied, raises noble hints in the mind of the hearer, and fills it with great conceptions. It strengthens devotion, and advances praise into rapture, lengthens out every act of worship, and produces more lasting and permanent impressions in the mind, than those which accompany any transient form of words that are uttered in the ordinary method of religious worship.
N° 406. MONDAY, JUNE 16, 1712.
Hæc studia adolescentiam alunt, senectutem oblectant, se
cundas res ornant, adversis solatium et perfugium præbent ; delectant domi, non impediunt foris ; pernoctant nobiscum,
peregrinantur, rusticantur. These studies nourish youth; delight old age; are the orna
ment of prosperity, the solacement and the refuge of adversity; they are delectable at home, and not burthensome abroad; they gladden us at nights, and on our journeys, and in the country.
The following letters bear a pleasing image of the joys and satisfactions of a private life. The first is from a gentleman to a friend, for whom he has a very great respect, and to whom he communicates the satisfaction he takes in retirement; the other is a letter to me, occasioned by an ode written by my Lapland lover : this correspondent is so kind as to translate another of Scheffer's songs in a very agreeable manner. I publish them together, that the
young and old may find something in the same paper which may be suitable to their respective tastes in solitude ; for I know no fault in the description of ardent desires, provided they are honourable.
• You have obliged me with a very kind letter ; by which I find you shift the scene of your life from the town to the country, and enjoy that mixt state, which wise men both delight in and are qualified for. Methinks most of the philosophers and moralists have run too much into extremes, in praising entirely either solitude or public life ; in
the former, men generally grow useless by too much rest; and, in the latter, are destroyed by too much precipitation : as waters lying still putrefy and are good for nothing; and running violently on, do but the more mischief in their passage to others, and are swallowed up and lost the sooner themselves. Those who, like you, can make themselves useful to all states, should be like gentle streams, that not only glide through lonely vales and forests, amidst the flocks and shepherds, but visit populous towns in their course, and are at once of ornament and service to them. But there is another sort of people who seem designed for solitude, those I mean who have more to hide than to show. As for my own part, I am one of those whom Seneca says,
i Tam umbratiles sunt, ut putent in turbido esse quicquid in luce est.' Some men, like pictures, are fitter for a corner than a full light; and I believe such as have a natural bent to solitude are like waters, which may be forced into fountains, and exalted to a great height, may make a much nobler figure, and a much louder noise, but after all run more smoothly, equally, and plentifully, in their own natural course upon the ground. The consideration of this would make me very well contented with the possession only of that quiet which Cowley calls the companion of obscurity; but whoever has the muses too for his companions can never be idle enough to be uneasy. Thus, sir, you see I would flatter myself into a good opinion of my own way of living : Plutarch just now told me, that it is in human life as in a game at tables : one may wish he had the highest cast; but, if his chance be otherwise, he is even to play it as well as he can, and make the best of it.
I am, Sir,
and most humble servant.'
• Mr. SPECTATOR,
The town being so well pleased with the fine picture of artless love, which Nature inspired the Laplander to paint in the ode you lately printed, we were in hopes that the ingenious translator would have obliged it with the other also which Scheffer has given us; but since he has not, a much inferior hand has ventured to send you this.
• It is a custom with the northern lovers to divert themselves with a song, whilst they journey through the fenny moors to pay a visit to their mistresses. This is addressed by the lover to his rein-deer, which is the creature that in that country supplies the want of horses. The circumstances which successively present themselves to him in his way, are, I believe you will think, naturally interwoven. The anxiety of absence, the gloominess of the roads, and his resolution of frequenting only those, since those only can carry him to the object of his desires ; the dissatisfaction he expresses even at the greatest swiftness with which he is carried, and his joyful surprise at an unexpected sight of his mistress as she is bathing, seem beautifully described in the original.
• If those pretty images of rural nature are lost in the imitation, yet possibly you may think fit to let this supply the place of a long letter, when want leisure, or indisposition for writing, will not permit our being entertained by your own hand. I propose such a time, because, though it is natural to have a fondness for what one does oneself, yet, I assure you, I would not have any thing of mine displace a single line of yours,
« Haste, my rein-deer, and let us nimbly go
Our am'rous journey through this dreary waste ; Haste, my rein-deer! still, still thou art too slow, Impetuous love demands the lightning's haste.
II. “ Around us far the rushy moors are spread :
Soon will the sun withdraw his cheerful ray : Darkling and tir'd we shall the marshes tread, No lay unsung to cheat the tedious way.
III. « The wat’ry length of these unjoyqus moors
Does all the flow'ry meadows' pride excel; Through these I fly to her my soul adores ; Ye flow'ry meadows, empty pride, farewel.
IV. « Each moment from the charmer I'm confin'd,
My breast is tortur'd with impatient fires; Fly, my rein-deer, fly swifter than the wind, Thy tardy feet wing with my fierce desires.
And thou, in wonder lost, shalt view my fair,
Gently removing each ambitious wave;
gaze : From every touch you more transparent grow,,
And all reveal'd the beauteous wanton plays."