330 t v.i CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND GIVEN IN 1 89 1 BY HENRY WILLIAMS SAGE Cornell University Library PR 3301.H96 1883 v.1-6 Works. ill 3 1924 013 167 386 Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 92401 31 67386 BOHN'S STANDAED LIBKAEY. ADDISON'S WOKKS. IN SIX VOLUMES •' Mr. Addison is generally allowed to be the most correct and elegant of all our writers ; yet some inaccuracies of style have escaped him, which it is the chief design of the following notes to point out. A work o< this sort, well executed, would he of use to fdreigners who studj; our language ; and even to such of our countrymen as wish to write it in perfect purity." — R. Worcester [Bp. Hurd]. " I set out many years ago with a warm admiration of this amiahle writer [Addison] . I then toot a surfeit of his natural, easy manner ; and was taken, like my hetters, with the raptures and high rights cf Shakspeare. My maturer judgment, or lenient age, (call it which you will,) has now led me back to the favourite of my youth. And here, I think, I shall stick ; for such useful sense, in so charming words, I find not elsewhere. His taste is so pure, and his Virgilian prose (as Dr. Young styles it) so exquisite, that I have but now found out, at the close of a critical life, the full value of his writings." — Ibid. " Whoever wishes to attain an English style, familiar but not coarse, and elegant but not ostentatious, must give his days and nights to the volumes of Addison." — Dr. Johnson. "It was not till three generations had laughed and wept over the pages of Addison that the omission [of a monument to his Tnemory] was supplied by public veneration. At length, in our own time, his image, skilfully graven, appeared in Poets' Comer. — Such a mark of national respect was due to the unsullied statesman, to the accomplished scholar, to the master of pure English eloquence, to the consummate painter of life and manners. It was due, above all, to the great satirist, who aloi.e knew how to use ridicule without abusing it, who, without inflicting a wound, effected a great social reform, and who reconciled wit and virtue, after a long and disastrous separation, during which wit had been led astray by profligacy, and virtue by fanaticism." — Macaulaji. ABBI S © THE WORKS or TRE EIGHT HONOTJEABLE JOSEPH ADDISON. ■WITH NOTES • Bx RIOHAED HURD, D.D. L33D IIBHCP OF WCKCXBTBB« WITH LARGE ADDITIONS, CHIEFLY UNPUBLISHED. COIXECTED AND EDITED BY HENKT G. BOHN. IN SIX VOLUMES. YOL, I. LONDON: GEOEGE BELL AND SONS, YORK SIEEET, COYENT GARDEN. 1890. A. tos(oM- LONDON : TRINTED BY "O'lLLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS. PREFACE. Bisnop Hurd's edition of Addison, which has always ranked as the best, having become a scarce and expens- ive book, the publisher considered he should render an ac- ceptable service to his subscribers by reproducing it in a popular form. He accordingly undertook a verbatim reprint of it in four volumes. But, after having made considerable progress, he found accidentally that so large a number of Addison's letters remained unpublished, that it seemed desir- able to extend his original plan, for the purpose of includ- ing them. Bishop Hurd had not given any of Addison's let- ters, evidently not aware that any of an authentic character existed ; neither had his precursor, Tickell, upon whom the duty, as Addison's literary executor, devolved, and who ap- pears to have been in possession of original drafts, which could have been placed in his hands for no other purpose. Miss Aikin, in her Memoir, had so far remedied this omission, from materials which had come into the possession of a de- scendant of Mr. Tickell, and from other sources, that any further publication or research had at first seemed supere- rogatory ; but the discovery of some unpublished papers which, though they lay in her path, had escaped her, followed up by inquiry and research, led to a very different conclusion. !nie publisher therefore set himself energetically to work, ^ FBE7ACI:. and, by tho help of literary friends and his own appliances, has succeeded in obtaining such an amount of vinpublished letters (including the originals of some of those hitherto nrinted from drafts) as must surprise the literary public ; especially when it is borne in mind that most of them have been lying dormant, in accessible places, for considerably more than a century. His success la bringing to light so many letters led him to examine whether aU the known works of Addison had been included in the collected editions, and he then found that many interesting and weU-authenticated pieces had uniformly been omitted. The necessity of including these led to a stiU further extension of his plan ; and instead of four, as was first intended, then five, his edition of the Works now forms sis volumes. All that has been published heretofore as Addison's in Kurd's edition of his Works, which is the most complete, is comprised in the first four volumes of the present and the early pages of the fifth. The remainder, nearly one-third ol the whole, is additional, for the most part transcribed from manuscripts in public depositories and private collections, or gleaned from rare or ephemeral volumes. Of the numerous manuscripts now first published nearly aU are either holo- graph or autograph ; and nothing has been admitted without sufficient evidence of its authenticity. There are in aU nearly 250 letters, of which only those marked in the List of Contents with an asterisk have been published by Miss Aikin. Besides these the publisher has since met with many more, all however so drily official, like those enumerated at p. 527-8, that he has not thought them worth printing ; but, as the dates may be convenient an analysis ef them is given on a starred page, to follow 528. .Among so many remarkable letters and papers, it is difli- cult to point out the most interesting, but the following seem PKEFACE, VM in particular to deserve emimeration : Addison's letters to the Earl of Halifax, p. 423 — 429 ; the various letters con- cerning the Eoyal Disputes, p. 506 — 522 ; the original form of Addison's celebrated ' Letter from Italy,' p. 537 — 542 ; the official documents and memorials relating to Addison's public appointments and salaries, p. 632 — 645 ; and the Eeports on Public Affairs, p. 646 — 672, especially the feeling paragraph respecting the Duke of Ormond at p. 671. The dates of Addison's letters, and of many others of the period, are a, generally acknowledged source of perplexity. As the civil or leyal year formerly began on the 25th of March (the Annunciation), the first three months of our present year were then counted as the last three of the old, and conventionally written thus : January 1, 1699-1700, or March 24, 1717-18. The historical year commenced, as at present, on the 1st of January (the Circumcision), and was written with only one set of figures ; but as it frequently happened that the civil year was written carelessly without the second date, a doubt would arise as to the exact year in- tended ; so that any month from January to March, 1717, might mean 1718. From April to December no such uncer- tainty arises, as both modes of denoting these months were uniform ; but there would still exist considerable uncertainty as to the day, of which there were two modes of reckoning, the old style and the new. The former was generally adhered to by the Protestants, the latter (introduced by Pope Gre- gory XIII.) was universally adopted by the Catholics. Sometimes O. S. or N. S. would be adjoined to the dates, but this was much oftener omitted. Before 1700, the difference between the styles was 10 days, and in the next century 11 days. Thus the battle of Blenheim, which Haydn (quoting by some mistake Hume as his authority) places at August 2nd, 1704, is placed by Smollett, Cox, Heeren, and other historians, and by Marlborough himself, (writing from a Catholic country,) at August 13th. In collecting for the PEEFACB. present volumes, it has happened, in more than one instance, that duplicate copies of official papers were found to vary 11 days in their respective dates, according asthevpriter adopted the old or new style. In such cases the later date has here been preferred. All this confusion of dates ceases after 1752, in which year an Act of Parliament came into operation, ordering that the 3rd of September should be accounted the 14th, and the cioil year commence like the historical year on the 1st of January. The various materials for these volumes having been col- lected by degrees, and some of them after there seemed little prospect of finding any more, it became necessary to give a second Appendix ; but this has been so arranged as to pro- duce no confusion. The addition of the Ajddisoniana was an after-thought, suggested by the space afforded when it was determined to increase the number of volumes. This portion is founded on the old ' Addisoniana,' published in 1803 by Sir Eichard Phillips, but with material alterations and corrections. The foot-notes, as well as the observations between brackets, are for the most part by the publisher himself, whether so signed or not, but he has not hesitated to adopt the substance of anything he found to his hand. All the literature of the period, and he believes himself to be biblio- graphically familiar with it, has been ransacked for his purposes. Indeed redundancy is not unlikely to be deemed his fault ; for in his anxiety to omit nothing, and relying , more on memory than a constant recurrence to foregone pages, he finds he has committed two or three unnecessary repetitions. Por this surplusage he has to crave indulgence but hopes and believes he has none to ask for omissions. In respect to what may appear to be other oversights, such as the misspelling of names, they are not his own, but are found in the manuscripts, and unless in very palpable instances he has not ventured to alter them. PBEFACE. ix. The previous editions of Addison's Works, one and all, dtrange to say, have no lists of contents ; and as the present was originally intended as a mere reprint, the same deficiency had weU nigh occurred : but the publisher has the satisfac- tion of remedying this omission, by giving them at the end of the work, with directions to the binder for placing them. New titles for the first four volumes are also given. The Index is extremely ample, the most complete ever given to Addison ; nevertheless several omissions have oc- curred, the principal of which are supplied on the last page. The Life of Addison has been written so often, and is before the public in so many forms, — especially in the Bio- graphical Dictionaries of Kippis, Lockman and Birch, Chal- mers, and Hose ; the Essays of Dr. Drake ; Johnson's Lives of the Poets ; and Miss Aikia's Memoir, — that it seemed to the publisher unnecessary to add any to that given by TickeU in the original edition of his "Works, and adopted by Hurd. The present volumes comprehend all the materials for a Life which are as yet known to exist ; and if the reader wishes to. have a biographical induction to them he cannot do better than procure Mr. Macaulay's masterly and entertaining ' Essay on the Life and Writings of Addison,' originally published as a Eeview of Miss Aikin's Memoir (Ed. E.ev., July, 1843), and lately republished (though without the uotes) for one shilling. The publisher discharges a pleasurable duty in returning his sincere thanks to the gentlemen who have throughout the course of his inquiries so readily accorded him their assistance. Eor the use of original letters and papers he has particularly to thank Wm. E. Baker, Esq., (a lineal descendant of Tonsonby the female branch,) Dawson Turner, Esq., John Scott, Esq., John Toung, Esq., Monckton Milnes, Esq., M.P., Dr. O'Callaghan, John Bullock, Esq., and Dr. Bandinel, of the Bodleian Library, Oxford ;, for the loan of X PEErACE. scarce tracts and volumes, and Bar useftil suggestions, Jas. CroBsley, Esq., and Bolton Oomey, Esq., gentlemen well versed in the arcana of literature, and always bountiful of their time and knowledge ; and for general eivilitieg in the promotion of his object and responding to his inquiries, the Eight Honourable Lord Palmerston, (for access to the State Papers,) the Eight Honourable the Earl of Ashburnham, the Eight Honourable Lord Holland, Sir Francis Palgrave, Sir Thomas Phillips, Bart., and the Eev. Wm. James, of Bilton Eectory. The publisher has bestowed very considerable labour and expense in examining, collecting, and transcribing materials for these volumes, and in annotating them ; not from anj desire to become an editor in the place of his literary staff, but simply because the duties grew on him by degrees, and he did not meet with any willing and competent substitute. His own extensive collection of books and MSS., ;which no one else was likely to use so well, his knowledge of the depositories of literary stores, and his general acquaintance with the writings of Addison, from early years his favourite author, gave him facilities which he did not happen to find elsewhere, or he would gladly have ceded the task. He has for the second time given " his days and nights to the volumes of Addison," and he hopes not unprofitably to the public. H. G. B. Dte. 26th, 1855. CONTEI(TS. Poems ok Several Occasions. To Mr. Dryden ...... 1 A Poem to His Majesty .... 3 Trans] atioKS of all Virgil's P'ourth Georgic, except the story of AristsBus ...... 10 A Song for St. Cecilia's Day at Oxford . ,20 An Account of the Greatest English Poets ... 22 A Letter from Italy to the Bight Honourable Charlps Lord Halifax, in the year 1701 .... 29 The same translated into Italian by Salvini . , .28 Milton's Style imitated in a translation of a story out of the third ^neid ...... 38 The Campaign . . . . , . 42 Rosamond. An Opera , . . . . .55 Prologue to the Tender Husband . . . . 81 Epilogue to the British Enchanters . . . .82 Horace, Ode III. Book III. ..... 83 Ovid's Metamorphoses, Book II. ' . . . .87 ■ Book III 114 The Story of Salmacis and Hermaphrodil us . . 136 Notes on some of the foregomg Stories in Ovid's Mel iiuor- phoses . . . . . ■ . i39 An Essay on Virgil's Georgics . . . 154 Cato. A Tragedy . . . . .162 Verses to the Author .... ib. •Prologue, by Mr. Pope ... . 170 Epilogue, by Dr. Garth . . . 226 To Her Royal Highness, the Princess of Wales . 227 To Sir Godfrey Kneller . . - *29 xii CONTESTS. ' PAGI POEMATA • . • . • • • ■ 2^^ Pax Gulielmi Auspiciis Europae reddita, 1697 . . 233 Barometri Descriptio ....•• "37 IirrMAIO-rEPANOMAXIA, sive, Praelium inter Pygmsoos et Griies commissum . . . . ^ 239 •Resurrectio delineata ad Altare Col. Magd. Oxon. . . 243 Spliaeristerium . . - . . • ■ .246 Ad D. D. Hannes, insigiiissimum Medicum et Poetam . 248 Machinae Gesticulanles, anglice, A Puppet-show . . 249 Ad insignissimum Vinim, D. Tho. Bumettum . . 251 Dialogues upon the Usefulness of Ancient Medals, .espe- cially IN RELATION TO THE LaTIN AND GrEEK PoETS ' . 253 Dialogue I. . . ... 255 II 273 ^III. . . . . . .338 Three Sets of Medals, illustrated by the Ancient Poets in the foregoing Dialogues ...... 353 Remarks on several Parts of Italy, in the years 1701, 1702, 1703 . . . . ■ . .356 LIST 0:e ILLtr8TI&A.TI0NS. • 1. Portrait .... . Frontispiece. 2. Medals, Series 1, plate 1 . , . , . 274 3. plate 2 . . . .280 4. Series 2, plate 1 . . . ~ . .294 S- — plate 2 ..... 308 6. Series 3, plate 1 ..... 322 ?• plate 2 .' . . . , a3C 8. Coins and Medals (Italy), plate 1 \ 9. plate2) " * ■ • ^ ADDISONIAN CHEONOLOGY. •** The Index will ayMb^Aj Jeficient rcferencpi. For the sake of conTenionce the age Is pnt Isdl*. crinunately to the year inatead of regulating it hy the month, of Addison's birth. TR. 9IONTH. AQB, May 1 • . 10 • • • 11 . . . 12 • . . 13 . . . 14 . . . 15 16 July 17 • • • 18 • ■ . 19 20 Feb. 14 21 June 26 July 7 — 23 Feb. Mar 2+ 25 June 1 Aug, Sep Sep. Nov Dec. Dec. 10 Dec. 12 Feb. Mar Aug 7 Dec. 9 Feb. 19 March 8 July Nov. Jan. 3 March April 20 Apr.Sep If ay Jul. Aug.Sep April 23 May 1 July 26 An^Bt Bom at Milston, near Amesbury, Wilts, vi. 673. Probably at School under the Eev. Mr. Naish, of Amesbury. Probably at School under the Rev. Mr. Taylor, of Salisbury, At School at Lichfield under Mr. Shaw. Ditto. I Ditto. At the CharterAouse, (under Dr. Ellia,) where he becomes ac- quainted wth Steele. Leaves the Charter-house, and is entered at Queen's Coll. Oxfird. vi. 674. At Queen's. Elected Demy of Magdalen College by the influence of Dr. Lan- caster, vi. 674, At Magdalen. Edits and publishes the first volume of Musa Anglicana. Fublishes-his Dissertatio de Romanorum Foetis, vi. 587, Takes degree of M.A., vi. 674. Writes " Verses to Dryden," i. 1, vi. 684. Delivers his Oratio de Nova Philosophia, vi. 607. Writes his " Poem to King William," 1.3, vi. 547. Engaged in translating Herodotus, v. 318— 321. Writes his poem "on the Peace of Ryswick," i. 233, vi. 549, and Latin Letter to Montague, i. 233, v. 321. Obtains his Fellowship, vi. 674. Publishes the second volume of MustB AnglicantB, containing his own Latin Poems. Obtains a travelling grant of £200 from King William,vi. 636, 675. Leaves Oxford and sets out on his travels, i. 358. At Paris, writes to Lord Somers, Montagu, and Frowde, v. 322-5. At Blois, where he stays till July, 1760, studying the French language, v. 331. At Lyons, writes to Bishop Hough, v. 382. Leaves Marseilles for Italy, i. 358. In Italy, writes to the Earl of Manchester and Lord Halifax, V. 334. At Borne, v, 335. At Geneva, having composed his " Letter to Lord Halifax " while travellihg over the Alps, v. 336. Dates the original draft of his " Letter to Lord Halifax " from Italy, vi. 537. Death of King William. At Geneva, v. 337. ^ At Vienna, digesting his Dissertation on Medals, v. 337. ' At Dresden, v. 338. At Hamburgh, v. 338—340. Death of Addison's father, v. 430, vi. 672. In Holland, at the Ha^ue, Leyden, Amsterdam, v. 339 — 345. In correspondence with the Duke of Somerset, about becoming Tutor to his son, v. 340—343. Elected Member of the Kit-cat Club immediately after his return home. Engaged in writing nis celebrated Poem " the Campaign," on — the Victory of Blenheim, (gained Aug. 13, 1704,) i. 42, vi; 68S. Appointed Commissioner of Appeals, in place of the celebrated Locke, V. 420 In London, publishes nls Travels, v 347. Writes Prologue to Steele's Tender Husband, i. 81. Goes to Hanover with Lord Halifax, v. 348. Appointed Under-Secretary of State, first to Sir Charles Hedges, afterwards (in December.) to the Earl of Sunderland, vi. 745. At the Duke of Marlborough's camp 'at HelcMn near the HagUB, V. 348. Returns to England, v, 349. c. nv ADDISONIAN OHKONOLOGT. 1706 1707 1708 1711 1712 1713 1716 ^1717 I7I8 1719 Dec. 3 March 4 Nov. April May Dec. Dec. 6 Jan. 9 April 12 April 22 A.VLg. 10 Oct. 6 April 30 Ma.Au.S Aug. 24 Sept. 14 Oct. 12 Oct. 17 Jan. 2 March 1 July 21 Mar. 12 April 6 April 14 July August Oct. 1 April 16 May 4 June 18 August Sep. 17 Sep. 29 Dee. Ma. Ju. Oct. 4 Dec. Dec. 25 Mar. 10 Aug. 2 Aug. 10 Sep. 23 April 12 April 13 Mar. 14 Mar. 19 April 19 May 8 Mar. 19 April 2 May 14 June 4 June 17 Lord Sunderland appointed Secretary of Suite, to whom Adilison becomes Under-Secretary, v. 353-4. His Bosamond acted (run only three nights). Publishes " Present State of the War," Iv. S40. Returned M. P. for Lostwithiel, but " not duly elected," v. 425. Writes tetters from Sandy-End (near Fulham) to Earl of Waft wick, V. 386-7. , . „ Loses his appointment as Under-Secretary, upon Lord Sunder^ land's retirement. . , ,„ , ^ Appointed Chief Secretary to the Marquis of Wharton, Lord. Lieutenant of Ireland, v. 374. Salary as Keeper of the Irish Becords raised to £400 per annum, vi. 632, 745. Tatler commenced by Steele, vi. 687, In Ireland. Eeturned M. P. for Cavan, May ISth. Speaks in Irish Parliament, August 10th. Sec, v. 377-9, vi. 7*:. In London, v. 879-80. In London, v.. 382. lo Dublin, V. 383—386, 391-2, vi. 726. In London, v. 393. Publishes the First Number of Whig-Examiner, iv. 370. Returned M. P. for Malmesbury, v. 425. In London, v. 396, 404. Steele's last Tatlet published, vi. 688. Commences Spectator. Loses his place,£2000 per annum, an estate in tne Indies wortb £14,000, and his Mistress. See letter, v 401. Writes Epilogue to Phillips' " Distressed Mother," v. 228. First Number of Guardian published by Steele. Cato rehearsed^ Cato performed, vi. 715. Publishes Trial of Count Tariff, iv. 364. Returned M. P. for Malmesbury (the second time). Last Number of the Guardian published, v. 411. Publishes the Reader, No. 3. Ditto, No. 4. Assigns vol. viii. of Spectator to Tonson, vi. 631. Publishes revised edition of his Musee AngUcamB. Secretary to the Lords Justices and the Regency. Arrival of George I. from Hanover, (Puft.finiry, 20th,) V. 418 — 421. Secretary to the Earl of Sunderland (having discharged office of Secretary to the Regency). Returned M. P. for Malmesbury for the 3rd time (Jan. 1715). Engaged in reporting Political News to Earl Sunderland. Salary as Keeper of the Irish Records raised to £500, vi. 637. Appointed a Lord of Trade and Plantations, vice Arch. Hatcham. Publishes Freeholder, No. I ., iv. 396. The Drummer performed (ran only three nights). Married to the Countess of Warwick, v. 434. Sunderland resigns Viceroyalty of Ireland. Addison loses secre- taryship, V. 434. Spends honeymoon in Paris, vi. 744. Writes Defence of the Christian Religion, v. 103. Appointed Secretary of State with £ 1850 per asinmn, {Gva9Ht~ April 16,) V. 436, vi. 639. Grant of £3000 Secret Service Money, vi. 640. Confined to his room with sickness, vL 510. Besig^ns the SeaU, vi. 509. Retiring Pension £1600 per annum, vi. 641. Patent Fee £100 per annum, vi. 040. Grant of Silver Plate, 1013 ounces, vL 642. Publishes his " Old Whig," No. 1, in reply to Stesle Ditto, SSo. 2. Makes his will, vi, 525, Bequeaths his literary property to Craggs, vi. 52S Diea in his 47th Year at HrlUnd House, ^ i. 52& INSCRIPTION TO ME. ADDISON, WEIITEN IN ]805. EXIMIO VIRO, JOSEPHO ADDISON: GRATIA, FAMA, FORTUNA COMMENDATO;- EUMANIORIBUS UTERIS UNICE INSTRUOTO; HAUD IGNOBILI POET^; IN ORATIONE SOLUTA CONTEXENDA SUMMO ARTIFICI; CENSORI MORUM GKAVI SANE, SED ET PERJUCUNDO, LEVIORIBUS IN ARGUMENTIS SUBRIDENTI SUAVITER, RES ETIAM SERIAS LEPORE QUODAM SUO CONTINGENTI; PIETATIS, PORRO; SINGER.*:, HOC EST, CHRISTIANS, FIDE, VITA, SCRIPTIS STUDIOSISSIMO CULTORI : EXIMIO, PROINDE, VIRO, JOSEPHO ADDISON, HOC MONUMENTUM SACRUM BSTO. R. W. 1805, Stepf. a. TO THE RIGHT HONOUEABLE JAMES CKAGGS, ESQ. his majesty's principal secretary of statb. Deab Sir, I CANNOT wish that any of my writings should last longer than the memory of our Mendship, and therefore I thus puhUcly be- queath them to you, in return for the many valuable instances of your affection. That they may come to you with as little disadvantage as pos- sible, I have left the care of them to one, whom, by the experience of some years, I know well qualified to answer my intentions He has abeady the honour and happiness of being under your pro- tection; and, as he will very much stand in need of it, I cannot wish him better, than that he may continue to deserve the favour and countenance of such a patron. I have no time to lay out in forming such compliments, as would but ill suit that familiarity between us, which was once my greatest pleasure, and wiU be my greatest honoui; hereafter. Instead of them, accept of my hearty wishes, that the great reputation you have acquired so early may increase more and more: and that you may long serve your country with those excellent talents and unblemished integrity, which have so powerfully recommended yon to the most gracious and amiable monarch that ever filled a throne. May the frankness and generosity of your spirit continue to soften and subdue your enemies, and gain you many friends, if possible, as sincere as yourself. When you have found such, they cannot wish you more true happiness than I, who am, with the greatest zeal, Dear Sir, your most entirely affectionate Friend, And faithful obedient Servant, June 4, 1719, J. ADDISON. PREFACE. Joseph Addison, tte son of Lancelot Addison, D. D. and of Jane, tlie daughter of Nathaniel Ghilston, D. D., and sister of Dr. "William Gulston, bishop of Bristol, was born at Milston, near Ambrosebury, in the county of VV'ilts, in the year 1671. His father, who was of the county of Westmore- land, and educated at Queen's College in Oxford, passed many years in his travels through Europe and Africa, where he joined, to the uncommon and excellent talents of nature, a great knowledge of letters and things ; of which several books published by him are ample testimonies. He was rector of Milston above-mentioned when Mr. Addison, his eldest son, was born ; and afterwards became archdeacon of Coventry, and dean of Lichfield. Mr. Addison received his first education at the Chartreux, ^ from whence he was removed very early to Queen's College in Oxford. He had been there about two years, when the accidental sight of a paper of his verses, in the hands of Dr. Lancaster, then dean of that house, occasioned his being elected into Magdalen College. He employed his first years in the study of the old Greek and Eoman writers ; whose language and manner he caught at that time of life, as strongly as other young people gain a Prench accent or a genteel air. An early acquaintance with the classics is what may be called the good-breeding of poetry, as it gives a certain gracefulness which never forsakes a mind that contracted it in youth, but is seldom or never hit by those who would learn it too late. He first distinguished himself by his Latin composition^ published in the Mnsa Angliccmte, and was admired as one of the best authors since the Augustan age, in the two un> versities and the greatest part of Europe, before he was talked of as a poot m to-wn. There is not, perhaps, auT IV PKEFAOE. harder task than to tame the natural wildness of wit, and to civilize the fancy. The generality of our old English poets abound in forced conceits and affected phrases ; and even those who are said to come the nearest to exactness, are but too often fond of unnatural beauties, and aim at something better than perfection. If Mr. Addison's example and pre- cepts be the occasion that there now begins to be a great demand for correctness, we may justly attribute it to his being first fashioned by the ancient models, and familiarized tp propriety of thought and chastity of style. Our country /owes it to him, that the famous Monsieur Boileau first con- / ceived an opinion of the English genius for poetry, by perus- I ing the present he made him of the Muscb Anglieanes. It I has been currently reported, that this famous French poet, ! among the civilities ah showed Mr. Addison on that occa- sion, affirmed, that he would not have written against Per- y rault, had he before seen such excellent pieces by a modem > hand. Such a saying would have been impertinent and un- worthy Boileau, whose dispute with Perrault turned chiefly upon some passages in the ancients, which he rescued from the mis-interpretations of his iadversary. The true and na- tural compliment made by him was, that those books had given him a very new idea of the Englisli politeness, and that he did not question but there were excellent compo- sitions in the native language of a country, that possessed the Eoman genius in so eminent a degree. The first English performance made public by him, is a short copy of verses to Mr. Dryden, with a view particularly to his translations. This was soon followed by a version of the fourth G-eorgic of Virgil, of which Mr. Dryden makes very honourable mention, in the postscript to his ovra trans- lation of all Virgil's works ; wherein I have often wondered that he did not at the same time acknowledge his obligation to Mr. Addison, for giving him the Essay upon the Georgics, prefixed to Mr. Dryden's translation. Lest the honour of so exquisite a piece of criticism should hereafter be trans- ferred to a vsTong author, I have taken care to insert it in this collection of his works. Of some other copies of verses, printed in the Miscellanies frhile he was young, the largest is An Account of the greatest Unglish Poets ; in the close of which he insinuates a design *e then had of going into holy orders, to which he was PBBITaCX. strongly importuned by his father. His remarkable serious- ness and modesty, which might have been urged as powerful reasons for his choosing that life, prqved the chief obstacles to it. These qualities, by which the priesthood is so much adorned, represented the duties of it as too weighty for him ; and rendered him still the more worthy of that honour, which they made him decline. It is happy that this very circum- stance has since turned so much to the advantage of virtue and religion, in the cause of which he has bestowed his labours the more successfully, as they were his voluntary, not his necessary employment. The world became insensibly recon- ciled to wisdom and goodness, when they saw them recom- mended by him with at least as much spirit and elegance, as they had been ridiculed for half a century. He was in his twenty-eighth year, when his inclination to see France and Italy was encouraged by the great Lord Chancellor Somers, one of that kind of patriots,. who think it no waste of the public treasure to purchase politeness to their country. The poem upon one of King WiUiam's cam- paigns, addressed to his Lordship, was received with great humanity, and occasioned a message from him to the author to desire his acquaintance. He soon after obtained, by his interest, a yearly pension of three hundred pounds from the Crown, to support him in his travels, If the uncommonness of a favour, and the distinction of the person who confers it, enhance its value, nothing could be more honourable to a young man of learning, than such a bounty from so eminent a patron. How well Mr. Addison answered the expectations of my Lord Somers, cannot appear better, than from the book of Travels he dedicated to his Lordship at his return. It is not hard to conceive, why that performance was at first but in- differently relished by the bulk of readers ; who expected an account, in a common way, of the customs and policies of the several governments in Italy, reflections upon the genius of the people, a map of their provinces, or a measure of their I buildings. How were they disappointed, when, instead of such particulars, they were presented only with a journal of poetical travels, with remarks on the present picture of the country, compared with the landscapes drawn by classic authors, and others the like unconcerning parts of know- ' ledge ! One may easily imagine a reader of plain sense, but tKJSrACE. / without a fine taste, turning over these parts of the volume, which make more than half of it, and wondering how an author, who seems to have so solid an understanding, when he treats of more weighty subjects in the other pages, should dwell upon such trifles, and give up so much room to mat- ters of mere amusement. There are, indeed, but few men so fond of the ancients, as to be transported with every little accident, which iutroduces to their intimate acquaintance, ' Persons of that cast may here have the satisfaction of seeing annotations upon an old Eoman poem, gathered from the hills and valleys where it was written. The Tiber and the Po serve to explain the verses that were made upon their banks ; and the Alps and Apennines are made commentators on those authors to whom they were subjects so many cen- turies ago. Next to personal conversation with the writers themselves, this is the surest way of coming at their sense : a compendious and engaging kind of criticism, which con- vinces at "first sight, and shows the vanity of conjectures made by antiquaries at a distance. If the knowledge of po- lite literature has its use, there is certainly a merit in illus- trating the perfect models of it, and the learned world will think some years of a man's life not misspent in so elegant an employment. I shall conclude what I had to say on this performance, by observing,' that the fame of it increased from year to year, and the demand for copies was so urgent, that the price rose to four or five times the original value, before it came out in a second edition. The Letter from Italy to my Lord Halifax may be con- sidered as the text upon which the book of Travels is a large comment, and has been esteemed by those who have a relish for antiquity, as the most exquisite of his poetical perform- ances. A translation of it by Signer Salvini, professor of the Greek tongue at Florence, is inserted in this edition, not ' only on the account of its merit, but because it is the laji- guage of the country which is the subject of this poem. The materials for the Dialogues upon Medals, now first printed from a manuscript of the author, were collected in the native country of those coins. The book itself was begun to be cast mto form at Vienna, as appears from a letter to Mr. Step- ney, tlien minister at that court, dated in November, 1702. Some time before the date of this letter, Mr. Addison had designed to return to England, when he received advice from PEEFACE. Vii hia friends, that he was pitched upon to attend the army under Prince Eugene, who had just beg^n the war in Italy, as secretary from his Majesty. But an account of the death of King William, which he met with at Geneva, put an end to that thought ; and as his hopes of advancement in his own country were fallen with the credit of his friends, who were out of power at the beginning of her late Majesty's reign, he had leisure to make the tour of Germany in his way home. He remained for some time, after his return to England, >- without any public employment, which he did not obtain till ^ the year 1704, when the Duke of Marlborough arrived at the highest pitch of glory, by delivering aU Europe from slavery, and furnished Mr. Addison with a subject worthy of that genius which appears in his poem called The Campaign. The > Lord Treasurer Godolphin, who was a fine judge of poetry, had a sight of this work, when it was only carried on as far as the applauded simile of the Angel; and approved the poem, by bestowing on the author, in a few days after, the place of Commissioner of Appeals, vacant by the removal of the famous Mr. Locke to the Council of Trade. His next advancement was to the place of Under Secre- tary, which he held under Sir Charles Hedges, and the pre- sent Earl of Sunderland. The Opera of Rosamond was writ- ten while he possessed that employment. What doubts soever have been raised about the merit of the music, which, as the Italian taste at that time begun wholly to prevail, was thought sufficiently inexcusable, because it was the compo- sition of an Englishman ; the poetry of this piece has given as much pleasure in the closet, as others have afforded from the stage, with aU the assistance of voices and instruments. The Comedy called The Tender Husband appeared much about the same time, to which Mr. Addison wrote the Pro- logue. Sir Eichard Steele surprised him with a very hand- some dedication of this play, and has since acquainted the pubHc, that he owed some of the most taking scenes of it to Mr. Addison. His next step io his fortune, was to the post of Secretary under the late Marquis of Wharton, who was appointed Lord Lieutenant of Ireland in the year 1709. As I have proposed to touch but very lightly on those parts of his life which do not regard him as an author, I shall not enlarge PBEFACE. upon the great reputation he acquired by his turn to busi- ness and his unblemished integrity, in this and other em- ployments. It must not be omitted here, that the salary of Keeper of, the Eecords in Ireland was considerably raised, and that post bestowed upon him, at this time, as a mark of the queen's favour. He was in that kingdom when he first discovered Sir Eichard Steele to be the author of The Tatler, by an observation upon Virgil, which had been by him com- municated to his friend. The assistance he occasionally gave him afterwards in the course of the paper, did not a little contribute to advance its reputation ; and, upon the change of the ministry, he found leisure to engage more constantly in that work, which, however, was dropt at last, as it had been taken up, without his participation. In the last paper, which closed those celebrated perform- ances, and in the preface to the last volume, Sir Eichard Steele has given to Mr. Addison the honour of the most ap- plauded pieces in that collection; But as that acknowledg- ment was delivered only in general terms, without directing the public to the several papers, Mr. Addison, who was con- tent with the praise arising from his own works, and too, delicate to take any part of that which belonged to others, afterwards thought fit to distinguish his writings in the Spectators and Guardians, by such marks as might remove the least possibility of mistake in the most undisceming readers. It was necessary that his share in the Tatlers should be adjusted in a complete collection of his works ; for which reason Sir Eichard Steele, in compliance with the re- quest of his deceased friend, delivered to him by the editor, was pleased to mark with his own hand those Tatlers which are inserted in this edition, and even to point out several in the writing of which they both were concerned. The plan of the Spectator, as far as it regards the feigned person of the author, and of the several characters that com- pose his club, was projected in concert with Sir Eichard Steele. And, because many passages in the course of the work would otherwise be obscure, I have taken leave to in- sert one single paper, written by Sir Eichard Steele, wherein those characters are drawn, which may serve as a Dramatis Persona, or as so many pictures for an ornament and expli- eation of the whole. As for the distinct papers, they were never or seldom shown to each other by their respective FBEFACIi. IX authors, who ftJly answered the promise they had made, and far out-went the expectation they had raised, of pursuing their labour in the same spirit and strength with which it was begun. It would have been impossible for Mr. Addison, who made little or no use of letters sent in by the numerous correspondents of the Spectator, to have executed his large share of this task in so exquisite a manner, if he had not in- grafted into it many pieces that had lain by him in little hints and minutes,' which he from time to time collected, and ranged in order, and moulded into the form in which they now appear. Such are the Essays upon Wit, the Pleasttres of the Imagination, the Critique upon Milton, and some others, which I thought to have connected in a continued series in this edition ; though they were aT first published with the interruption of writings on diiferent subjects. But as such a scheme would have obliged me to cut off several graceful introductions and circumstances, peculiarly adapted to the time and occasion of printing them, I durst not pursue that attempt. The Tragedy of Cato appeared in public in the year 1713, when the greatest part of the last act was added by the au- thor to the foregoing, which he had kept by him for many years. He. took up a design v' "vriting a play upon this subject, when he was very young <;■ the university, and even attempted something in it there, though not a line as it now stands. The work was performed by him in his travels, and retouched in England, without any formed resolution of bringing it upon the stage, tiU his friends of the fi.rst quality and distiaction prevailed with him to put the last finishing to it, at a time when they thought the doctrine of liberty very seasonable. It is in everybody's memory, with what applause it was received by the public ; that the first run of it lasted for a month ; and then stopped, only because one of the performers became incapable of acting a principal part. The author received a message, that the queen would be pleased to have it dedicated to her ; but as he had de- signed that compliment elsewhere, he found himself obliged by his duty on the one side, and his honour on the other, to send it into the world without any dedication. The fame of this Tragedy soon spread throngh Europe, and it has not only been translated, but acted in most of the languages of Christendom. The translation of it into Italian, by Signnr jt PREFACE. Salviiii, is very well known ; but I have not been able 1o Jearn, whether that of Signer Valetta, a young Neapolitan nobleman, has ever been made public. If he had found time for the writing of another tragedy, the deatli of Socrates would have been the story. And, how- ever unpromising that subject may appear, it would be pre- sumptuous to censure his choice, who was so famous for raising the noblest plants from the most barren soil. If serves to show, that he thought the whole labour of such a performance unworthy to be thrown away upon those in- trigues and adventures, to which the romantic taste has con- fined modern tragedy ; and, after the example of his prede- cessors in Greece, would have employed the drama " to wear out of our minds everything that is mean, or little ; to cher- ish and cultivate that humanity which is the ornament of our nature ; to soften insolence, to soothe afiliction, and to subdue our minds to the dispensations of Providence."' Upon the death of the late queen, the Lords Justices, in whom the administration was lodged, appointed him their Secretary. Soon after his Majesty's arrival in Great Britain, the Earl of Sunderland being constituted Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, Mr. Addison became a second time Secretary for the affairs of that kingdom ; and was made one of the Lords Commissioners of Trade a little after his Lordship resigned the post of Lord Lieutenant. The paper called the Freeholder was undertaken at the time when the rebellion broke out in Scotland. The only works he left behind him for the public, are the Dialogues upon Medals, and the Treatise upon the Christian Religion. Some account has been already given of the for- mer, to which nothing is now to be added, except that a great part of the Latin quotations were rendered into Eng- lish, in a very hasty manner, by the editor, and one of his friends, who had the good nature to assist him, during his avocations of business. It was thought better to add these translations, such as they are, than to let the w^rk come out unmtelligible to those who do not possess the learned lan- guages. The scheme for the Treatise upon the Cliristian Eeligion was formed by the author about the end of the late queen'i' ' Spectator, No. 39. reign ; at which time he caretully perused the ancient writ- ings, which furnish the materials for it. His continual em- ployment in business prevented him from executing it, tiU he resigned his office of Secretary of State ; and his death put a period to it, when he had imperfectly performed only one half of the design ; he having proposed, as appears from the rnti'oduction, to add the Jewish to the Heathen testimonies for the truth of the Christian history. He was more assidu- ous than his health would well allow in the pursuit of this work ; and had long determined to dedicate his poetry also, for the future, wholly to religious subjects. Soon after he was, from being one of the Lords Com- missioners of Trade, advanced to the post of Secretary of State, he found his health impaired by the return of that . asthmatic indisposition, which continued often to afflict him during his exercise of that employment, and at last obliged him to beg his Majesty's leave to resign. Hi's freedom from the anxiety of business so far re-established his health, that his friends began to hope he might last for many years ; but (whether it were from a life too sedentary, or from his na- tural constitution, in which was one circumstance very remark- able, that, from his cradle, he never had a regular pulse) a long and painful relapse into an asthma and dropsy deprived the world of this great man, ,on the 17th of June, 1719. He left behind him only one daughter, by the Countess of "War- wick, to whom he was married in the year 1716. Not many days before his death, he gave me directions to collect his writings, and at the same time committed to my care the Letter addrest to Mr. Craggs, (his successor as Se- cretary of Stiate,) wherein he bequeaths them to him, as a token of friendship. Such a testimony, from the first man of our age, in such a point of time, will be, perhaps, as great and lasting an honour to that gentleman, as any even he could acquire to himself ; and yet is no more than was due from an affection, that justly increased towards him through the intimacy of several years. I cannot, without the utmost tenderness, reflect on the kind concern with which Mr. Ad- dison left me as a sort of encumbrance upon this valuable legacy. Nor must I deny myself the honour to acknowledge, that the goodness of that great man to me, like many other of his amiable qualities, seemed not so much to be renewed aa XU PEEFACE. continued in his successor ; who made me an example, that nothing could be indiiferent to him which came recom- mended by Mr. Addison. Could any circumstance be more severe to me, while I was executing these last commands of the author, than to see the person, to whom his works were presented, cut off in the flower of his age, and carried from the high office where- in he had succeeded Mr. Addison, to be laid next him in the same grave ! I might dwell upon such thoughts as naturally rise from these minute resemblances in the fortune of two persons, whose names, probably, will be seldom mentioned asunder, while either our language or story subsist, were I not afraid of making this preface too te£ou8 ; especially since I sliall want aU the patience of the reader, for haviug enlarged it with the following verses. TUOS. TICK.ELL. TO THE EIGHT HONOUEABLK THE EAEL OF WARWICK, &a li', dumb too long, tlie drooping Muse hath stayed, And left her debt to Addison unpaid ; Blame not her silence, "Waj^ick, but bemoan, And judge, oh, judge, my bosom by your own. "What mourner ever felt poetic flres ! Slow comes the verse that real woe inspires : Girief unaffected suits but ill with art. Or flowing numbers with a bleeding heart. Can I forget the dismal night, that gave My soul's best part for ever to the grave ! How silent did his old companions tread. By midnight lamps, the mansions of the dead. Through breathiag statues, then imheeded things. Through rows of warriors, and through walks of kings! What awe did the slow solemn knell inspire ! The pealing organ, and the pausing choir ; The duties by the lawn-robed prelate paid ; ■And the last words, that dust to dust conveyed ! While speechless o'er thy closing grave we bend, Accept these tears, thou dear departed Mend ! Oh, gone for ever, take this long adieu ; And sleep in peace, next thy loved Montagu! To strew fresh laurels, let the task be mine ; A frequent pilgrim at thy sacred shrine ; Mine with true sighs thy absence to bemoan, And grave with faithful epitaphs thy stone. If e'er from me thy loved memorial part, May shame afflict this alienated heart ; Of thee forgetful if I form a song. My lyre be broken, and untuned my tongue, My griefs be doubled, from thy image free. And mirth a torment, unchastised by thee* Oft let me range the gloomy aisles alone, (Sad luxury ! to vulgar minds unknown,) Along the walls where speaking marbles show What worthies form the hallowed mould below : Proud names, who once the reins of eitipire held ; In arms who triumphed, or in arts excelled ; Chiefs, graced with scars, and prodigal of blood ; Stem patriots, who for sacred freedom stood ; Just men, by whom impartial laws were given ; And saints, who taught, and led, the way to heaven. Ne'er to these chambers where the mighty rest. Since their foundation, came a nobler guest,- Nor e'er was to the bowers of bliss conveyed A fairer spirit, or more welcome shade. In what new region to the just assigned, What new employments please th' unbodied mind ? A winged Virtue, through th' ethereal sky, Prom world to world unwearied does he fly ; Or curious trace the long laborious maze Of heaven's decrees, where wondering angels gaze ? Does he delight to hear bold seraphs tell, How Michael battled, and the Dragon fell ? Or, mist with milder cherubim, to glow In hymns of love, not ill eissay'd below ? Or dost thou warn poor mortals left behiad, A task weU suited to thy gentle mind ? Oh, if sometimes thy spotless form descend, To me thy aid, thou guardian Genius, lend ! When rage misguides me, or when fear alarms. When pain distresses, or when pleasure charmB, In silent whisperings purer thoughts impart, And turn from ill a frail and feeble heart ; Lead through the paths thy virtue trode before, Till bliss shall join, nor death can part us more. That awful form (which, so ye heavens decree, Must still be loved, and still deplored by me) In nightly visions seldom fails to rise, Or, roused by fancy, meets my waking eyes. If business calls, or crowded courts invite, Th' unblemished statesman seems to strike my »ig1it ; If in the stage I seek to soothe my care, I meet his soul, which breathes in Cato there : If pensive to the rural shades I rove. His shape o'ertakes me in the lonely grove : 'Twas there of Just and Grood he reasoned strong, Cleared some great truth, or raised some serious song ; There patient showed us the wise course to steer, A candid censor, and a friend severe ; There taught us how to live ; and (oh ! too high The price for knowledge) taught us how to die. Thou hiU, whose brow the antique structures graoo^ Beared by bold chiefs of "Warwick's noble race, Why, once so loved, whene'er thy bower appears, O'er my dim eye-balls glance the sudden tears ? How sweet were once thy prospects, fresh and fair, Thy sloping walks, and impolluted air ! How sweet the glooms beneath thy aged trees. Thy noon-tide shadow, and thy evening breeze ! His image thy forsaken bowers restore ; Thy walks and airy prospects charm no more ; No more the summer in thy glooms allayed, Thy evening breezes, and thy noon-day shade. From other ills, however fortune frowned, Some refuge in the muse's art I found : Eeluctant now I touch the trembling string. Bereft of him, who taught me how to sing, And these sad accents, murmured o'er his urn. Betray that absence they attempt to mourn. Oh ! must I then (now "fresh my bosom bleeda, And Craggs in death to Addison succeeds) The verse, begun to one lost friend, prolong, A,nd weep a second in th' tmfinisbed song ! These works divine, which, on his death-bed laid To thee, O Craggs, th' expiring Sage conveyed, Grreat, but ill-omened, monument of fame ; Nor he survived to give, nor thou to claim. Swift after him thy social spirit flies, And close to his, how soon ! thy coffin lies. Blest pair ! whose union fiiture bards shall tell In future tongues : each other's boast ! farewell. Farewell ! whom joined in fame, in friendship tried, No chance could sever, nor the grave divide. THOMAS TICKELL. POEMS ON SEYEEAL OCCASIONS. TO ME. DEYDEN.i How long, great poet, shall tliy sacred lays Provoke our wonder, and transcend our praise ? Can neither injuries of time, nor age, Damp thy poetic heat, ajid quench thy rage ? Not so thy Ovid ia his exile wrote ; Grief chill' d his breast, and check' d his rising thougLt; Pensive and sad, his drooping muse betrays The Eoman genius in its last decays.' Prevailing warmth has still thy mind posseat, And second youth is kindled in thy breast ; Thou mak'st the beauties of the Eomans known,^ And England boasts of riches not her own ; Thy lines have heighten' d Virgil's majesty, And Horace wonders at himself in thee. ' It would not be fair to criticise our author's poetry, especially the poetry of his younger days, very exactly. He was not a poet born: or, he had not studied, with sufficient care, the best models of English poetry. Whatever the cause might be, he had not the command of what Dry den so eminently possessed, a truly poetic dictum. His poetry is only pure prose put into verse. And "Non satis est puris versum perscribere verbis." However, it may not be amiss to poiat out the principal defects of his expression, that his great example may not be pleaded in excuse of them. ^ Thou mak'st.] Vide after, Thou teac/iest.} This way of using verbs of the present and imperfect tense, in the second person singular, should be utterly banished from our poetry. The sound is intolerable. Milton and others have rather chosen to violate grammar itself, than offend the ear thus unmercifully. This liberty may, perhaps, be taken sometimes, in the greater poetry ; in odes especially. But the better way will gener- ally be, to turn the expression differently, as, 'Tis thine to teach, or ii some such way. VOL. I. » 2 Addison's woeks. Thou teachest Persius to inform ova isle In smoother numbers, and a clearer style ; And Juvenal, instructed in thy ;page. Edges his' satire, and improves ms rage. Thy copy casts a fairer fight on all, And still outshines the bright original. Now Ovid boasts the advantage of thy song,' And tells his story in the British tongue ; Thy charming verse,'' and fair translations, show How thy own laurel first began to grow ; How wild Lycaon, changed by angry gods, And frighted at himself,^ ran howling through the woods, O may'st thou still the noble task prolong,* Nor age nor sickn,ess interrupt thy song ! Then may we wondering read, how human limbs Have watered kingdoms, and dissolved in streams ; Of those rich fruits that on the fertile mould Turned yellow by degrees, and ripened into gold : How some in feathers, or a ragged hide. Have Hved a second Hfe, and different natures tried. Then will thy Ovid, thus transformed, reveal A nobler change than he himself can teU.^ Maff. Coll. Oxon. June 2, 1693. The Author's age, 22. 2 '^I^ advantage of thy song.] An instance of unpoetical expression. Thy charming verse, and fair translations.! The epithets too ee- neral and prosaic. j r o ^Alexandrines, as they are called, should never be admitted into this kind of verse. But Dryden's unconfined genius had given a sanction to * O may'st thou still, &c.] See note = in the preceding page. It might have stood thus : " Still may thy muse the noble task prolong." » reveal—teU.'] Bad rhymes. There are other instances in this short pccBi; snd m genelral Mr. Addison was a bad rhj-mist. A POEM TO HIS MAJESTY.* PRESENTED TO THE LOED KEEPEE. TO THE EIGHT HONOUEABLE SIR JOHN SOMEES. lOED KEEPEE OF THE GEEAT SBAIi If yet your thouglits are loose from state affairs,^ Nor feel the burden of a kingdom's cares, If yet your time and actions are your own, Eeceive tlie present of a muse unknown : A muse that in adventurous numbers sings The rout of armies, and the fall of kings, Britain advanced, and Europe's peace restored, By Somers' counsels, and by Nassau's sword. To you, my lord, these dariag thoughts belong, "Wha helped to raise the subject of my song ; To you the hero of my verse reveals His great designs, to you in council tells His inmost thoughts, determimng the doom Of towns unstormed, and battles yet to come. And well could you, in your immortal strains, Describe his conduct, and reward his pains : But since the state has all your cares engrost, And poetry in higher thoughts is lost. Attend to what a lesser muse^ indites, Pardon her faults and countenance her flights. ' King William. Printed in the year 1695. The author's age, 24. ' This short address to his patron in polite and proper, hut, like the pofim which it introduces, very prosaic. • A lesser muse.] Little has two comparatives, less and lesser. Use leaves us at liberty to employ either. The sound will direct us when to prefer the one to the other. As here, a lesser muse is clearly better than % less muse. But, in general, it may be a good rule " to join less with a B 2 iJ)DISON'S WOEKS. On you, my lord, with anxious fear I wait, And from your judgment must expect my fate, Wto, free from vulgar passions, are above Degrading envy, or misguided love ; If you, well pleased, shall smile upon my lays, Secure of fame, my voice I 'U boldly raise ; Tor next to what you write, is what you praise. TO THE KING. When now the business of the field is o'er, iTlie trumpets sleep, and cannons cease to roar ; "When every dismal echo is decayed. And all the thunder of the battle laid ; Attend, auspicious prince, and let the muse In humble accents milder thoughts infuse. Others, in bold prophetic numbers skilled, Set thee iu arms, and led thee to the field ; My muse, expecting, on the British strand Waits thy retium, and welcomes thee to land : She oft has seen thee pressing on the foe, "When Europe was concerned in every blow ; But durst not in heroic strains rejoice ; The trumpets, drums, and cannons drowned her voice : She saw the Boyne run thick with human gore, And floating corps lie beating on the shore : She saw thee climb the banks, but tried in vain To trace her hero through the dusty plain, "When through the thick embattled lines he broke, Now plunged amidst the foes, now lost in clouds of smokei Oh that some muse, renowned for lofty verse, In daring numbers would thy toils rehearse ! singular noun, and lesser with a plural ; " — as when we say, o less diffi- culty, and leaser difficulties. The reason is, that few singular nouns teiin- inate in «, and most plural nouns do. Worser, the second comparative of had, has not the same authority to plead as lesser ; and is not, I ihink, of equal tse. — Our grammari:in5 ilu not enough attend to the influence which the ear has in mudelli g a li*" guage. POEMS ON SETEEAL OCOASIOirs. fl Draw thee beloved in peace, and feared in wars, Inured to noon-day sweats,^ and midnight cares ! But still the gbdlLke man, by some hard fate, Eeceives the glory of his toils too late ; Too late the verse the mighty act succeeds ; One age the hero, one the poet breeds. A thousand .years in full succession ran Ere Virgil raised his voice, and sung the man Who, driven by stress of fate, such dangers bore On stormy seas and a disastrous shore. Before he settled in the promised earth, ■ And gave the empire of the world its birth. Troy long had foimd the Grecians bold and fierce. Ere Homer mustered up their troops in verse ; Long had Achilles quelled the Trojans' lust, And laid the labour of the gods in dust. Before the towering muse began her flight, And drew the hero raging in the fight. Engaged in tented fields and rolling floods. Or slaughtering mortals, or a match for gods. And here, perhaps, by fate's unerring doom, Some mighty bard lies hid in years to come, That shall in WiDiam's godlike acts engage. And with his battles warm a future age. Hibernian flelds shall here thy conquests show, And Boyne be sung when it has ceased to flow ; Here Grallic labours shall advance thy fame, And here Senefie shall wear another name. Our late posterity, with secret dread. Shall view thy battles, and with pleasure reaa How, in the bloody field, too near advanced. The guiltless bullet on thy shoulder glanced.^ The race of Nassaus was by Heaven designed To curb the proud oppressors of mankind, To bind the tyrants of the earth with laws. And fight in every injured nation's cause, ' He should have said heats, as he does say in the Campaign, The mid- night watches and the noon-day heats, ' The guiltless bullet, &c.] Delicately, and, at the same time, nohly 3xpressed. Gur great preacher, Tillotson, was not so happy when he spoke of the king's shoulder as being kindly kissed by this bullet. ADDISON'S WOEKS. The world's great patriots ; they for justice call, And, as they farour, kiagdonis rise or fall. Our British youth, unused to rough alarms. Careless of fame, and negligent of arms. Had long forgot to meditate the foe, And heard unwarmed the martial trumpet blow ; But now, inspired by thee, with fresh deUght, Their swords they brandish, and require the fight, Eenew their ancient conquests on the main. And act their fathers' triumphs o'er agaiu ; Fired, when they hear how Agincourt was strowed "With Grallic corps, and Cressi swam in blood, "With eager warmth they fight, ambitious all "Who first shall storm the breach, or mount the wall In vain the thronging enemy by force "Would clear the ramparts, and repel their course ; They break through all, for WilHam leads the way, "Where fires rage most, and loudest engines play. Namuxe's late terrors and destruction show "What "William, warmed with just revenge, can do : Where once a thousand turrets raised on high Their gilded spires, and glittered. in the sky, An undistinguished heap of dust is found. And aU the pile lies smoking on the ground. His toils, for no ignoble ends designed, Promote the common welfare of mankind ; No wild ambition moves, but JBurope's fears. The cries of orphans, and the widow's tears ; Opprest religion gives the first alarms. And injured justice sets him in his arms ; His conquests freedom to the world afibrd. And nations bless the labours of his sword. Thus when the forming muse would copy fortri A perfect pattern of heroic worth. She sets a man triumphaut in the field, O'er giants cloven down, and monsters killed, Seeking in blood, and smeared vrith dust and sweat, "Whilst angry gods conspire to make him great. Thy navy rides on seas before unprest. And strikes a terror through the haughty East ; Algiers and Tunis from their sultry shore "With horror hear the British engines roar. POEMS Olf SETEEAL OCCASIONS. ' Fain, from the neighlDouriiig dangers would they run. And wish themselves still nearer to the sim. The G-allic ships are in their ports confined, Denied the common use of sea and wind, Nor dare again the British strength engage ; Still they remember that destructive rage Which lately made their trembling host retire, Stunned with the noise, and wrapt in smoke and fire ; The waves with vride unnumbered vn-eoks were strewed, And planks, and arms, and men, promiscuous flowed. Spain's numerous fleet, that perisht on our coast, Could scarce a longer line of battle boast. The winds could hardly drive them to their fate. And all the ocean laboured with the weight. Where'er the waves in restless errors roll, , The sea lies open now to either pole : Now may we safely use the northern gales. And in the Polar Circle spread our saUs ; Or deep in southern climes, secure from wars, New lands explore, and sail by other stars ; Fetch uncontrolled each laboixr of the sun. And make the product of the world our own. At length, proud prince, ambitious Lewis, cease To plague mankind, and trouble Europe's peace ; Think on the structures which thy pride has razed, On towns unpeopled, and on fields laid waste ; Think on the heaps of corps, and streams of blood, On every guilty plain, and purple flood. Thy arms have made, and cease an impious war, Nor waste the Lives intrusted to thy care. Or if no milder thought can calm thy mind, Behold the great avenger of mankind. See mighty Nassau through the battle ride, And see thy subjects gasping by his side : Fain would the pious prince refuse the alarm, Fain would he check the fury of his arm ; But when thy cruelties his thoughts engage, The hero kindles with becoming rage. Then countries stolen, and captives unrestored. Give strength to every blow, and edge his sword. Behold with what resistless force he falls On towns besieged, and thunders at thy walls ! 8 Addison's woeks. Ask Yilleroy ; for Villeroy beheld The town surrendered, and the treaty sealed; With what amazing strength the forts were won, "Whilst the whole power of France stood looking cm. But stop not here : behold where Berkley stands, And executes his injured king's commands ! Around thy coast his bursting bombs he pours On flaming citadels and falling towers ; "With hissing streams of fire the air they streak, And hurl destruction round them where they break ; The skies with long ascending flames are bright, And all the sea reflects a quivering light. Thus Mtna., when in fierce eruptions broke, KUs heaven with ashes, and the earth with smoke ; Here crags of broken rocks are twirled on high, Here molten stones and scattered cinders fly : Its fury reaches the remotest coast. And siiows the Asiatic shore with dust. Now does the sailor from the neighbouring main Look after Gallic tovsms and forts in vain ; No more his wonted marks he can descry, But sees a long unmeasured ruin lie ; "Whilst, pointing to the naked coast, he shows His wondering mates where towns an^d steeples rose, Where crowded citizens he lately viewed. And singles out the place where once St. Maloes stood. Here Eussel's actions should my muse require ; And, would my strength but second my desire, I'd all his boundless bravery rehearse. And draw his cannons thundering in my verse : High on the deck should the great leader stand, "Wrath in his look, and lightning in his hand ; Like Homer's Hector, when he flung his fire Amidst a thousand ships, and made all Greece retire. But who can run the British triumphs o'er. And count the flames disperst on every shore ? Who. can describe the scattered victory. And draw the reader on from sea to sea ? Else who could Ormond's godlike acts refuse, Ormoud the theme of every Oxford muse ? Pain would I here his mighty worth proclaim. Attend him in the noble chase of fame, POEMS ON SETEHAl OCOASIOlTa. 9 Through all the noise and hurry of the fight, Observe each blow, and keep him still in sight. Oh, did om" British peers thus court renown. And grace the coats their forefathers won ! Our arms would then triumphantly advance, Nor Henry be the last that conquered France. What might not England hope, if such abroad Purchased their country's honour with their blood When such, detaiaed at home, support our state In William's stead, and bear a kingdom's weight, The schemes of G-allic policy o'erthrow, And blast the counsels of the common foe ; Direct our armies, and distribute right. And render our Maria's loss more light. But stop, my muse, the ungrateful sound forbear, Maria's name still' wounds each British ear: Each British heart Maria stUl does^ wound, And tears burst out unbidden at the sound ; Maria stUl our rising mirth destroys. Darkens our triumphs, and forbids our joys. But see, at length, the British ships appear ! OxjT Nassau cdmes ! and, as his fleet draws near, The risiag masts advance, the sails grow white, And all his pompous navy floats in sight. Come, mighty prince, desired of Britain, come ! .May heaven's propitious gales attend thee home! , Oome, and let longing crowds behold that look Which such confusion and amazement strook Through G-allic hosts : but, oh 1 let us doscry Mirth in thy brow, and pleasure in thy eye ; Let nothing dreadful in thy face be found ; But for awhile forget the trumpet's sound ; Well-pleased, thy people's loyalty approve. Accept their duty, and enjoy their love. Eor as, when lately moved with fierce delight, Tou plunged ainidst the tumult of the fight. Whole heaps of dead encompassed you around. And steeds o'erturned lay foaming on the ground : > Does wound.] An unlucky iDlemisli in this otherwise pretty passage —Yet it is a mistake to think that these feeUe expletives, do, does, did, &c., as Pope calls them, are never to have a place in our verse : the rule is "they should not be coupled with the verb." The reason is ohvious. 10 ADDISOirS WORKS. So crowned witli laurels now, where'er you go, Around you blooming joys and peaceful blessings flow. A TRANSLATION OF ALL VIEGIL'S POTJETH aEOEGIO, EXCEPT THE STORY OF AKIST^US. EthbeeaIi sweets stall next my muse engage, ^ And this, Msecenas, claims your patronage. Of little creatures' wondrous acts I treat, The ranks and mighty leaders of their state, Their lawsv~employments, and their wars relate. A trifling theme' provokes my humble lays. Trifling the theme, not so the poet's praise, If great ApoUo and the tuneful Nine Joia in the piece, to make the work divine. First for your bees a proper station find. That 's fenced about, and sheltered from the wind; For wiads divert them in their flight, and drive The swarms, when loaden homeward, from their hive. Nor sheep, nor goats, must- pasture near their stores, To trample under-foot the springing flowers ; Nor jfrisking heifers boimd about the place. To spurn the dew-drops off', and bruise the rising grass ; Nor must the lizard's painted brood appear. Nor wood-pecks, nor the swallow, harbour near. They waste the swarms, and, as they fly along, Convey the tender morsels to their young. Let purling streams, and fountains edged vrith moss, And shallow riUs run trickling dovm the grass ; ' Ethereal sweets.'] The followinp; version, though it he exact enough, for (he most part, and not inelegant, gives us but a faint idea of the originah It has tlie grace, hut not tlie energy, of Virgil's manner. The late Translator of the Georgics * has succeeded much better. The versi- fication (except only the bad rhymes ) may be excused ; for the frequent triplets and Alexandrines (which Dryden's laziness, by the favour of his exuberant genius, had introduced ) were esteemed, when this translation was made, not blemishes, but beauties. » Mr. Nevile. POEMS as SETERAL OCCASIONS. 11 Let branching olives o'er the fountain grow ; Or palms shoot up, and shade the streams below ; That when the youth, led by their princes, shun The crowded hive and sport it in the sun, Eefreshing springs may tempt them from the heat, And shady coverts yield a cool retreat. "Whether the neighbouring water stands or runs, Lay twigs across and bridge it o'er vnth stones ; That if rough storms, or sudden blasts of vsdnd, Should dip or scatter those that lag behind. Here they may settle on the friendly stone. And dry their reeking pinions at the sun. Plant all the flowery banks with lavender. With store of savoTiry scent the fragrant air ; Let running betony the field o'erspread, And fountains soak the violet's dewy bed. Though barks or plaited vrillows make your hive, A narrow inlet to their cells contrive ; For colds congeal and freeze the liquors up. And, melted down with heat, the waxen buildings drop. The bees, of both extremes alike afraid. Their wax around the whistling crannies spread, And suck out clammy dews from herbs and flowers, To smear the chinks, and plaster up the pores ; For this they hoard up glue, whose clinging drops, Like pitch or bird-lime, hang in stringy ropes. They oft, 'tis said, in dark retirements dwell. And work in subterraneous caves their cell ; At other times the industrious insects live In hollow rocks, or make a tree their hive. Point all their chinky lodgings round with mud, And leaves most thinly on your work be strewed ; But let no baleful yew-tree flourish near. Nor rotten marshes send out steams of mire ; Nor burning crabs grow red, and crackle in the fire. Nor neighbouring caves return the dying soimd. Nor echoing rocks the doubled voice rebound. Things thus prepared When the under-world is seized with cold and night, And summer here descends in streams of light, The bees through woods and forests take their flight. 12 ADDISOfr's WOBKS. They rifle every flower, and lightly skim The crystal brook, and sip the running stream ; And thus they feed their young with strange deUght, And knead the yielding wax, and work the sJimy sweet. But when on high you see the bees repair. Borne on the winds through distant tracts of air, And view the vringed cloud all blackening from afar ; While shady coverts and fresh streams they choose, Milfoil and common honey-suckles bruise, And sprinkle on their hives the fragrant juice. On brazen vessels beat a tinkling sound. And shake the cymbals of the goddess round ; Then all will hastily retreat, and fill The warm resounding hollow of their cell. If once two rival kings their right debate. And factions and cabals embroil the state, The people's actions will their thoughts declare ; AH their hearts tremble, and beat thick with war ; Hoarse, broken sounds, like trumpets' harsh alarnia, Bun through the hive, and call them to their arms ; All in a hurry spread their shivering wings. And fit their claws, and poiut their angry stings : In crowds before the king's pavilion meet, And boldly challenge out the foe to fight : At last, when all the heavens are warm and fair. They rush together out, and join ; the air Swarms thick, and echoes with the hummiag war. AH iu a firm round cluster mix, and strow "With heaps of little corps the earth below ; As thick as hail-stones from the floor rebound. Or shaken acorns rattle on the ground. No sense of danger can their kings control, Their little bodies lodge a mighty soul : Each obstiuate in arms pursues his blow, Till shameful flight secures the routed foe. This hot dispute and all this mighty fray A little diist flung upward will allay. But when both kings are settled in their htvo, Mark him who looks the worst, and lest he live Idle at home in ease and luxviry, ■ The lazy monarch must be dcioned to die j POEMS ON BBTEKAL OOOASIONS. 13 So let the royal insect rule alone, And reign tvithout a rival in his throne. The kings are different ; one of better note, All speclct with gold, and many a shining spot. Looks gay, and glistens in a gilded coat ; But love of ease, and sloth, in one prevails, That scarce his hanging paunch behind him trails : The people's looks are different as their king's, Some sparkle bright, and glitter in their wings ; Others look loathsome and diseased with sloth, Like a faint traveller, whose dusty mouth Grows dry with heat, and spits a mawkish froth. The first are best Prom their o'erflowing combs you'll often press Pure luscious sweets, that mingling in the glass Correct the harshness of the racy juice. And a rich flavour through the wine diffase. But when they sport abroad, and rove from home. And leave the cooling hive, and quit the unfinished comb ; Their airy rambhngs are with ease confined. Clip their king's wings, and if they stay behind No bold usurper dares invade their right, Nor sound a march, nor give the sign for flight. Let flowery banks entice them to their cells. And gardens all perfumed with native smells ; "Where carved Priapus has his fixed abode. The robber's terror, and the scare-crow god. Wild thyme and pine-trees from their barren hill Transplant, and nurse them in the neighbouring soil, Set fruit-trees round, nor e'er indulge thy sloth. But water them, and urge their shady growth. And here, perhaps, were not I giving o'er. And striking sail, and making to the shore, I'd show what art the gardener's toils require, "Why rosy paestum blushes twice a year ; "What streams the verdant succory supply. And how the thirsty plant drinks rivers dry ; "With what a cheerful green does parsley grace. And writhes the bellying cucimiber along the twisted grasa ; Nor would I pass the soft Acanthus o'er, Ivv nor myrtle-trees that love the shore; 14 Addison's woeks. Nor daffodils, that late from earth's slow womb TJnrumple their swoln buds, and show their yellow bloom. For once I saw in the Tarentine vale, Where slow Galesus drencht the washy soU, An old Corician yeoman, who had got A few neglected acres to his lot, "Where neither corn nor pasture graced the field, Nor wovdd the vine her purple harvest yield; But savoury herbs among the thorns were found, Vervaiu and poppy-flowers his garden crowned. And drooping lilies whitened all the ground. Blest with these riches he could empires slight, And when he rested from his toils at night. The earth unpurchased dainties would afford, And his own garden furnished out his board: The spring did first his opening roses blow,^ First ripening autumn bent his fruitful bough. When piercing colds had burst the brittle stone, And freezing rivers stiffened as they run. He then would prune the tenderest of his trees. Chide the late spring, and lingering western breeze: His bees first swarmed, and made his vessels foam With the rich squeezing of the juicy comb.j Here lindens and the sappy pine increased ; Here, when gay flowers his smiling orchard drest. As many blossoms as the spring could show, So many dangling apples mellowed on the bough. In rows his elms and knotty pear-trees bloom. And thorns ennobled now to bear a plum. And spreading plane-trees, where, supinely laid. He now enjoys the cool, and quaffs beneath the shade. But these for want of room I must omit, And leave for future poets to recite. Now I 'U proceed their natures to declare. Which Jove himself did on the bees confer ; ' Roses blow.] Not usual or exact to use the verl) blow actively. Yet Milton speaks oi banks tfiat blow flowers. (Mask at Ludlow Castle, page 993. ) And, indeed, it is not easy to say how far this licentious construction, if sparingly used, si sumpta pudenter, may be allowed, especially in the higher poetry. The reason is, that it takes the expression out of the tameness of prose, and pleases by its novelty, more than it disgusts by its irregularity : and whatever pleases in this degree, is poetical. POEMS OH SETEEAL OCOASIOKS. U Because, invited by the timbrel's soimd, Lodged in a cave, the almighty babe they found, And the young god nurst kindly under-ground. Of all the winged inhabitants of air, These only make their young the public care ; In veU-disposed societies they live, _^d laws and statutes regulate their hive ; Nor stray like others unconfined abroad. But know set stations, and a fixed abode : Each provident of cold in summer flies Through fields and woods, to seek for new supplies, And in the common stock unlades his thighs. Some watch the food, some in the meadows ply, Taste every bud, and suck each blossom dry ; Whilst others, labouring in their cells at home, Temper Narcissus' clammy tears with gum, Por the first ground- work of the golden comb ; On this they found their waxen works, and raise The yellow fabric on its gluey base. Some educate the young, or hatch the seed With vital warmth, and future nations breed ; Whilst others thicken all the slimy dews. And into purest honey work the juice ; ' Then fiU the hollows of the comb, and swell With luscious nectar every flowing cell. By turns they watch, by turns with curious eyes Survey the heavens, and search the clouded skies, To find out breeding storms, and tell what tempests rise. By turns they ease the loaden swarms, or drive The drone, a lazy insect, from their hive. The work is warmly plied through all the cells. And strong with thyme the new-made honey smeUs. So in their caves the brawny Cyclops sweat. When vrith huge strokes the stubborn wedge they beat, And all the unshapen thunder-bolt complete ; Alternately their hammers rise and fall ; Whilst griping tongs turn round the glowing ball. With pufiing bellows some the flames increase, And some in waters dip the hissing mass ; Their beaten anvils dreadfully resound, And ^tna shakes aU o'er, and thunders under-ground. 16 ADDISO]