7Q 
 
 BX 5199 .D249 H27 1817 
 Hardinge, George, 1743-1816 
 Biographical memoirs of the 
 Rev. Sneyd Davies . . I 
 
 Si 03 ^ s:^ 
 
 PRINCETON. N. J. 
 SAMUEL A G N E W , 
 
o 
 
_BorrL in 17 C9,- dCe.l in 176S . 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS 
 
 y 
 
 The Rev. SNEYD DAVIES, D. D. 
 
 CANON RESIDENTIARY OF LICHFIELD. 
 
 y 
 
 By GEORGE HARDINGE, Esa. 
 In a Letter to Mr. Nichols. 
 
 *»* Of this Memoir, Fifty Copies are printed j not for sale, 
 but for Mr. Hahdinge's Friends, and those.of Dr. Davies. 
 
 Printed by Nichols, Son, and Bentley, 
 Red Lion Passage, Fleet-street, London. 
 
Digitized by tiie Internet Arcliive 
 in 2015 
 
 littps://arcliive.org/details/biographicalmemoOOhard 
 
TO 
 
 LADY KNOWLES, 
 
 THE ZEALOUS ENTHUSIAST. 
 FOR GENIUS, TASTE, AND VIRTUE, 
 THIS PORTRAIT 
 OF THEIR IMAGE, AND MIRROR, 
 IN THE RE LICKS 
 WHICH HAVE BEEN CONSECRATED BY HER, 
 IS GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED, 
 BY HER AFFECTIONATE ADMIRER, 
 AND RESPECTFUL SERVANT, 
 
 GEORGE HARDINGE. 
 
[ 5 ] 
 
 DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 FeT cineres Amarylli forhs, Virgil. 
 
 To John Nichols, Esq. 
 
 Dear Sir, Walton Grove, March A, l8l5. 
 
 AN accident has tempted me to rescue from the 
 dust of obhvion (if I can hope to be so fortunate) 
 a man of consummate genius, and of exemplary 
 virtue, who (at least in my conception of his value) 
 deserves a conspicuous niche in your Temple of 
 the Sages, and of the Poets, who confer honour upon 
 the Century behind us. 
 
 The accident was this: On my judicial tour 
 into IVales in the summer of last year, I called at 
 the house of Admiral Sir Charles Knowles, who 
 then resided in Liidlojv, and who had received me, 
 as an occasional visitor, in the most obliging manner. 
 
 He was absent from home : but Lady Knowles 
 honoured me with her company for half an hour. 
 Accomplished in her talents, and most engaging in 
 her manners, a model in the dignified graces of do- 
 mestic virtue, a zealous enthusiast in literature, but 
 with no affectation, she is the ornament, and the de- 
 light of her numerous Relations, and of all who have 
 the happiness to be her friends. 
 
 In the course of chat between us, and in the com- 
 pany of others, a good laugh took place against 
 both of us, at her supposition that I had written a 
 Letter which had been copied by her from the ori- 
 ginal, and which, if I had written it, would have 
 advanced my age to that of a hundred and Jif teen] 
 
 Except for this a«;A:i4>arfi? inference from the datCy 
 I should have owned it with pride, if I could have 
 
 made 
 
6 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 made the confession agree to the fact. It will ap- 
 pear in these Memoirs, and I am now possessed of 
 it in the writer's hand. He was my own Father. 
 He had written this Letter to a certain Mr. Da- 
 vies, then Rector of Kingslund, in the County 
 of //er^rrf, afterwards Canon Residentiary oi Lich- 
 field, and Archdeacon of Derby, a person whom, 
 though I was not " a hundred and fifteen,'' I was 
 old enough to have seen at the table of the first Lord 
 Camden, my uncle, when he was Chancellor, and 
 whom I should have seen th^re, on the day appoint- 
 ed for the interview, if I had not been deprived of 
 that pleasure by some youthful engagements of my 
 own, which I had not sense enough to countermand. 
 
 I had often heard the Chancellor speak of him as 
 of an admired friend, and favourite in Eton school — 
 ;it King's College in Cambridge — and occasionally, 
 in rambles of the summer, before the Law tied him 
 by the leg. As a Poet indeed he had caught my at- 
 tention at school, and when I only knew him, as 
 the Writer of an address in blank verse to C — ■. — ■ 
 
 P , Esq. — Charles Pratt (as I found after- 
 
 v/ards) before the latter attained any of his profes- 
 sional honours. 
 
 This Poem had struck mc long before I could fill 
 up those initials of the name; and the Reader will na- 
 turally suppose that I was not less partial to it when it 
 acquired the additional value, to me, of its reference 
 to a person whom I loved, admired, and revered. — 
 It pleased me the more, because it was temperate, and 
 manly in praise (an arduous province of the Muse) ; 
 nor could 1 fail to admire the sagacity of anticipa- 
 tion — which made the partial, and poetical friend a 
 discerning prophet. 
 
 When I read this Poem first, it chimed in my ear, 
 and I could repeat every syllable of it by heart. — I 
 have the same passion for it still : — but what I shall 
 think of it in my hundred and fifteenth year, I will 
 not risk an opinion before its time ! 
 
 When 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 7 
 
 When my uncle had the Seals, he told me one day 
 that his friend the Poet had presented him with a 
 poetical address to Camden the Antiquary, and that 
 he had placed this keepsake at the hack 0/ the Anti- 
 quary's picture {which had been given to him by Mr. 
 James IVest *) — "a good place for such high- 
 Jloivn compliments J" was, I remember, his phrase. 
 It was an dloge upon the Chancellor in verse. He 
 added (and seemed more pleased with it than with 
 his own fame behind the picture) that his friend 
 had also given him his own Portrait. 
 
 But, at an earlier period still, though after I had 
 first read the Poem, I had seen amongst my father's 
 loose papers, English verse of the same Davies to 
 him. I thought it excellent of its kind in the Mil- 
 tonic measure, which his poetical ear had most hap- 
 pily caught, and which his earliest prepossession had 
 selected as a model in general for his own. 
 
 One Poem in particular (though in the removal 
 of papers at various times, when I shifted my Arab's 
 tent, I lost many others) was preserved by me, and 
 was in my possession, but so mislaid that I could 
 only at first give a part of it, which memory had re- 
 tained. But I have now received the remainder of 
 it, from a gentleman who was in possession of it. 
 
 I recollect that I also have read some of his Let- 
 ters to my father in prose, which I thought unaf- 
 fectedly elegant — a character which is the perfec- 
 tion of epistolary eloquence. In one of them he 
 sends Latin Alcaics which address him thus : 
 
 "O Dana Regum progenies,''' 
 in allusion to the unexplained affinity between our 
 Crest and that of the Berkeley s, which (in pure 
 
 * " Viro integerrimo 
 
 Carolo, Baroni Camden, 
 Jurum, Libertatumque Populi Anglicani 
 Vindici ac! !, forti, fideli. 
 Hoc Camdeni illustris PiototyphoD 
 In ^dibus Camdenianis olim 
 asgervatum, nunc reponendum 
 
 Ofifert, Jacobus West." 
 
 jest 
 
8 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 jest) carried us, with our Berkeley cousins, to the 
 Fitz-Hard'inges, who were Princes of Denmark ! 
 
 These Letters, and Verses making him a kind of 
 tableau cle Jamille, tempted nic to read more of his 
 works in the same volume of Dodsleys Miscellany. 
 
 They were, I thought, httle, if at all, inferior to 
 that, which had fascinated me when I was at school. 
 In short, he became a favourite of my youthful taste. 
 But youth is youth; and I had almost forgotten him. 
 
 During my ill-omened acquaintance with Miss 
 Seward, whose poetical fancy I admired, and who 
 resided in LicJifield, I imparted (with my habitual 
 enthusiasm for genius) to her, the impression which 
 Davies had made upon me. 
 
 That celebrated female has conferred upon me 
 the unsolicited honour of printing, and publishing 
 her answer to me upon this topic, and upon every 
 OTHER which had been the subject of mutual coNi-i- 
 DENCE between us — either transcribed (as the Editor 
 has represented) from her own copies of those Let- 
 ters, made when she wrote the originals first, or, as 
 I suspect, in this peculiar instance, from the origi- 
 nals; but, upon either supposition, with perfidy in 
 cold blood, unexampled (I hope) in literary in- 
 tercourse. 
 
 After many high-flown compliments to me, whom 
 she had never seen but once, and after the exchange 
 of childish pedantries between us, my disagreement 
 with her upon subjects of criticism embittered her 
 against me ; for, with all her attainments in litera- 
 ture, she overlooked a maxim of Cicero, " that we 
 should refute without anger, and should be refuted 
 without pertinacity." She laid her commands upon 
 me, in a fit of spleen, to return all the Letters I had 
 received, offering to part with all mine back to me, 
 uj)on a solemn pledge between us, instituted by her- 
 self, that no trace oj' the correspondence was ever to 
 
 appear. 
 
DR. SKEYD DAVIES. 
 
 9 
 
 appear. — This contract, with my perfect assent, 
 was in part executed — she sent back all my Letters 
 to me — I burnt them. She obtained possession of 
 her own to me; and I received a direct assurance 
 from her, which / also burnt (with a disdain to 
 keep it as a check, and security), that no vestige of 
 the opinions, or sentiments, which Itad been circu- 
 lated between her and me, should ever appear. 
 
 Instead of keeping- her word, she has betrayed, by 
 a posthumous deceit, but contemplated with delibe- 
 rate foresight, in the shape of her own replies, all the 
 idle rhapsodies of criticism, or taste, which at the im- 
 pulse of the moment I had communicated,as her friend. 
 She has trafficked away her good faith, and sense of 
 honour, to a Bookseller; and has exposed me to ridi- 
 cule, as guilty, at the best, of a labor ineptiarum, 
 and at the worst — of many unfashionable opinions, 
 which I thought sacred in her hands. She has even 
 copied one entire letter of mine to her, in a letter to 
 her friend. This too, after we had parted in amity, 
 and after some kind attentions to uie on her part, 
 even since we liad quarrelled upon literary subjects 
 alone. 
 
 That is not all ; nor is it the worst. There are 
 passages of a delicate nature in my Letters, af- 
 fecting the character of respectable individuals, 
 which a feeling mind would have shuddered even at 
 the POWER of revealing to the indiscriminate world ; 
 and she has not suppressed one of them, if made, as 
 they generally were, the subjects of her Letters to me. 
 
 It happens too, that upon the subject of this Lich- 
 Jield Poet her disingenuity is betrayed. In a letter 
 to me, his poetical rank is, by comparison, depre- 
 ciated ; but in a marginal note upon his verse in 
 Dodsley's Collection, presented by her to Da- 
 vies himself, and recently discovered at Kingsland, 
 he is the subject of a more animated ^loge. 
 
 To 
 
10 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 To me her expression is (word for word) as follows : 
 " Yes, indeed. Dr. Davies had genuine /)oe^/caZ 
 fancy, and his numbers were often graceful, and 
 " HARMONIOUS : SO far I think with you; but must 
 i*' dissent from i/o«r assertion," [which I never made,] 
 . *< That he is a Poet, sweet as any of modern times ! 
 " the times that boast of Gray, Mason, Collins, 
 " Hayley, Beattie, Cowper, Chatterton, Burns, 
 " with MANY OTHERS, who hold the poetic torch 
 " MUCH higher *, surely, than it was lifted by the 
 
 " GENTLE 'J~, the ELEGANT DaVIES." 
 
 In the marginal note of her keepsake, which 19 
 extant in her own hand, she writes thus : 
 
 " Witness the lays that still engage 
 Poetic eyes in Dodsley's page ; 
 Meek Davies % thine ; whose feeling mind 
 Was by each Christian grace refin'd, 
 Whilst PUREST RAYS of DeLL^N FIIIE 
 
 Shed living lustre on the lyre." 
 
 To resume Lady Knowles (who is never to be 
 left at the call of any digression, without reluctance), 
 I took the liberty of asking her, if slie knew any 
 more of Davies; and I learnt from her, with no 
 common delight, that she had found at Kingsland, 
 where she had copied this Letter " qf rnine," several 
 interesting manuscripts, in prose, and in verse, con- 
 nected with Da\'ies, the mirrors of his genius, virtues, 
 and familiar habits. In the kindest manner, observ- 
 ing, that my zeal for him was in unison with her own, 
 she communicated copies of these treasures to me, 
 and some of the originals; to which, at a later period, 
 
 * If the reader can unriddle this image, 1 give hiai joy. 
 
 t How these lady-like epithets can be deemed applicable to 
 the peculiar style, and character of his Muse, will hereafter appear. 
 
 J To this I have no objection. It is the fact, as applicabla 
 to his moral character. 
 
 she 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 11 
 
 she added all the rest. They are chiefly the foun- 
 tains, from which I have drawn the Memoirs of this 
 accomphshed Poet, and most amiable man. Upon 
 the box which retained the originals, before they 
 were in my possession, she wrote this beautiful 
 tribute of gratitude, for the delight she had felt in 
 reading his works : 
 
 TO THE SHADE THAT ONCE ANIMATED 
 
 THESE RELICKS. 
 Oh, stay the hand, that would to flames consign 
 A polish'd vein, and feelings, pure as thine ! 
 Though Tiyne, obsequious to the world's decay. 
 Has thy immortal essence borne away, 
 Still, through the foliage of a deathless wreath, 
 Shall Inspiration's fond memorial breathe ; 
 To future Pilgrims, that shall hither stray. 
 Thy renovated spirit shall display ; 
 The Sage, and Poet, shall himself redteem, 
 His own bright mirror of the hallow'd theme; 
 — Can this be death, when souls from bodies part, 
 But live to Favie, in genius, and the heart? 
 
 He was born in I709, a younger son, of a good fa- 
 mily in the Fate ofClewi/d, near St. Asaph. They 
 were possessed of an estate, and of a mansion there, 
 which is in the hands of a descendant, who is en- 
 titled by entail. 
 
 At Kingslond there is a curious drawing of this 
 family seat, in Chinese perspective'" to use Ladi/ 
 Knowles's words, in allusion to it. 
 
 His father was Rec/or, and Impropriator of 
 Kingsland, Prebendary of Hereford, and of St. 
 Asaph, Precentor of St. David's, and a Doctor of 
 Divinity. 
 
 In a most whimsical, but facetious manuscript, 
 which I have seen in one of my d<Uours from the 
 
 Circuit 
 
12 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Circuit Into the adjacent Counties, and which is 
 very much in the manner of Henry Fielding, coe- 
 val to the date of the elder Dav^es's residence at 
 Kingsland, a satirical account appears, at which he 
 would have laughed himself, both of his exterior, and 
 of his air, in these v/ords : 
 
 " One Doctor Davies was both Rector, and Ln- 
 propriator of Kingsland. 
 
 " He was tall, and bulky. — He had an air of gra- 
 " vity, and of dignity in the expression of his coun- 
 " tenance. It said, or seemed to say, especially to 
 " those who were not of his acquaintance, ' that he 
 " was not only Rector of Kingsland, but a C/tan- 
 " ter of St. David's.^' 
 
 He died in 1732. The son drew his character: 
 and I have taken one extract from it, as thinking 
 it very original, and well expressed : 
 
 " He had many ways to gain friends, and but 
 " one, that could endanger the loss of them. It 
 " was, that he sacrificed his interest, by telling them 
 " an unvvelcon}e truth." 
 
 The inscription upon his monument, perhaps 
 written by the son, is in these words : 
 
 " Here lies the Rev. .ToHN Davies, D. D. 
 Rector of Kingsland, 
 Precentor of St. David's, 
 and Prebendarj/ of the Cathedrals 
 
 of Hereford, and St. Asaph, 
 but much better distinguished 
 by l)is personal worth, 
 than he could have been 
 by the highest station in a Church*, 
 .whose doctrines he constantly preached, and practised, 
 in a manner equalled by few, 
 excelled by none. 
 Nor was he less remarkable 
 for his public spirit, 
 and an unalterable attachment 
 
 * He was to have been the next Bisbop, if he had lived. 
 
 to 
 
DR. SKEYD DAVIES, 
 
 13 
 
 to the interest of his Country; 
 which engaged him to many, 
 and recommended him to all good men. 
 
 By him lies Honora his first wife, the relict 
 of Thomas Jiavenscrvfi, Esq. greatly distinguished for 
 her piety, and charity. 
 
 He was the son of Mutton Davies, Esq. 
 an ancient, and loyal family in Flints/iire. 
 He died December the 14th, 1732, 
 aged 63, 
 
 leaving behind him Isabella, relict 
 of the Right Reverend John Hartstonge, 
 
 Bishop of Deny, 
 his second, and sincerely afflicted wife ; 
 John, Snevd, and Elizabeth, his children, 
 by his first wife. 
 
 It is worthy of remark, that in his will he gave the 
 living of Kingsland to Sneyd, the second son, " he- 
 " came of all his children he deserved the best of 
 
 him, and was Jit for the ministry 
 
 Of John I have no iutelligencCj except that he 
 died Sept. 8, 1 73 1 , at the age of 3 1 , and had this in- 
 scription to his memory ; so classical, that I have 
 no doubt of the hand; — Sneyd was evidently the 
 writer of it — 
 
 " Hoc juxta breve marmor 
 nou sine laude, et lachrymis, 
 jacet Johannes Davies, armiger; 
 Naturae dotibus feliciter instructus, 
 Elegans Poeta, jucundus comes, ■ 
 Dilectus in vita — in morte deflendus, 
 Fil. nat. max. 
 Rev*" JoHANNis Davies, 
 Rectoris de Kingsland, 
 in Comitalu Herefordi<e. 
 Obiit quinto die Septembris, 
 A.D. 1735, atatis 31. 
 
 We 
 
14 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 We have no other traces of him ; and it is very 
 singular, that in the numerous Letters of the sur- 
 viving Brother, he is not once named ! 
 
 Notwithstanding the ridicule upon his father's 
 exterior, and manner, conferred upon them by the 
 Manuscript, he appears to have been a very deep 
 scholar. Many books written by him are at Kings- 
 Imid, i-eligious, and classical ; — but, half mouldering 
 away. Many, alas, are such treasures, lost, and buried 
 in the modest obscurity of secluded life, though graced 
 by genius, and learning ; — iheyhzVQ*' hhishedunseen.^' 
 
 He must also have been lively, and pleasant ; for 
 there is a Ballad written by him upon the rage for 
 the South Sea, very much in Swif t's- manner, and 
 worth copying. It is intituled, 
 
 MERRY REMARKS UPON SOUTH SEA. 
 In London stands a famous pile. 
 
 And near that place an alley ; 
 Where merry crowds for riches toil. 
 
 And Wisdom stoops to Folly. 
 Here sad, and joyful, high, and low. 
 
 Court Fortune for her graces ; 
 And, as she smiles, or frowns, they shew 
 
 Their gestures, and grimaces. 
 There Stars, and Garters do appear, 
 
 And *mongst our Lords the rabble ; 
 To buy, and sell, to see, and hear. 
 
 The Jew, and Gentile squabble. 
 Here crafty Courtiers are too wise,' 
 
 For those who trust to Fortune ; 
 They see the cheat witli clearer eyes, 
 
 Who peep behind the curtain. 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 15 
 
 Our greatest Ladies hither come, 
 
 And ply in chariots daily; 
 Oft pawn their jewels for a turn, 
 To venture in the alley. 
 . Young harlots too, from Drury Lantj 
 \fii a Approach the Change in coaches; 
 , To fool away the gold they gain , : r; 
 
 By their obscene debauches. 
 Long heads may thrive by sober rules, ^ 
 
 Because they think, and drink not ; 
 But head-longs are no thriving fools. 
 
 Who only drink, and think not. 
 The kicky rogues, like spaniel dogs, 
 
 Leap into South Sea water ; 
 And there they fish for golden frog*, 
 
 Not caring what comes a'ter. 
 'Tis said, that alchemists of old 
 
 Could turn a broken kettle, 
 Or leaden cistern, into gold, 
 
 That noble tempting metal. 
 But, if it here may be allow'd, 
 
 To bring-in great with small things ; 
 Our cunning South Sea, like a god. 
 
 Turns nothing into all things. 
 What need have we of Indian wealth. 
 Or commerce with our neighbours ? 
 Our Constitution is in health. 
 
 And riches crown our labours. 
 Our South Sea ships have golden shrouds, 
 
 They bring us wealth, 'tis granted ; 
 But lodge their treasure in the clouds. 
 To hide it till it 's wanted. 
 
 O Britain • 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 O Britain ! bless thy happy state, 
 
 Thou only happy nation ; 
 So oddly rich, so madly great, 
 
 Since Bubbles came in fashion. 
 Successful rakes exert their pride, 
 
 And court these airy millions ; 
 Whilst homely drabs in coaches ride, 
 
 Brought up to town on pillions. 
 Few men, who borrow Reason's rules, 
 
 Grow fat with South-Sea diet ; 
 Young rattles, and unthinking fools, 
 
 Are those that flourish by it. 
 Old musty jades, and pushing blades, 
 
 Of least consideration ; 
 Grow rich apace, whilst wiser heads 
 
 Are struck with admiration. 
 A race of men who, to this day. 
 
 Lay crush'd beneath disasters ; 
 Are now by stock brought into play. 
 
 Are made our Lords, and Masters. 
 But should one tenth from Babel fall, 
 
 What numbers would be frowning ! 
 The honest then must ease their gall, 
 
 By hanging, or by drowning ! 
 Five hundred millions, notes, and bonds 
 
 Our stocks are worth in value; 
 But neither lie in goods, nor lands, ' 
 
 Nor money, let me tell you. 
 Yet though our foreign trade is lost, 
 
 Of mighty wealth we vapour ; 
 When all the riches that we boast, 
 
 Consist in scraps of paper ! 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 17 
 
 TheDAViESES vvereoriginallyof Gwynsaney, near 
 Mold, in Flintshire ; but about four, or five genera- 
 tions before, had married a Mutton*^ heiress of Llan- 
 nerch. — All the issue of John died without children. 
 The family seat has the name of Llannerch. The 
 owner of it, the Rev. Mr. William Whitehall 
 Da VIES, resides at Broughton Hall, near IFrexham. 
 
 Honora Sneyd, vv^hose maiden surname was con- 
 ferred upon her second son, married her first hus- 
 band, in Shrewsbury, Feb. 12, 1690. He was bu- 
 ried at Ha r warden in Flintshire, May 10, 1698. 
 
 Honora was the daughter of Ralph Sneyd, Esq. 
 (who was of Keel, in the county of Stajf'ord), by 
 Frances, daughter of Sir John Dryden, Bart, of 
 Canons Ashhy, in the county of Northampton. 
 She was born in 166%. 
 
 Dr. John Davies was of Shrewsbury, where all 
 his children were born. 
 
 John, Feb. 3, I703-4. 
 
 Sneyd, Oct. 30, 1709. 
 
 Thomas, June 27, 171I. 
 
 And a daughter Elizabeth. 
 
 Tliere is a Letter from Earl Camden, a very lit- 
 tle before he left the bar, to his friend, lamenting, 
 that he cannot, by a dash of his pen, make the law 
 in his favour. The question was, if he was a tenant 
 for life, or in fee, to some part of the family estate. 
 " Dear Sneyd, 
 
 " The point is clear; you are only tenant for life. 
 *' I wish the dash of my pen would alter the law 
 " for your sake ; but it is too stubborn. Your uncle's 
 " heir at law is entitled after your death, &c. 
 
 (Signed) " C. Pratt. Sept. 31, 1761." 
 
 From one of the co-heirs now in possession, the 
 Rev. Mr. William Whitehall Davies, I have 
 received a series of kind, and very entertaining Letters. 
 
 * This word, as the Welsh utter it, has the sound of Mitton. 
 
 c He 
 
l8 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 He has traced the family back to a remote, and 
 venerable period. 
 
 The common ancestor of this Gentleman and 
 Snevd was Mutton Davies, the father of John, 
 but who was not the elder son *. Robert, who came 
 before him, had many children. His grandson was 
 Peter, father to my Correspondent. 
 
 Mutton. Mutton. 
 
 Robert. John. 
 
 I I 
 Robert. Skeyd. 
 
 I 
 
 Peter. 
 William Whitehall. 
 
 Amongst the descendants from this Mutton or 
 Mitton Davies, Richard, brother to the first Ro- 
 b?rt, and who left an estate for life to his nephew the 
 Rector of Kingsland, merits a distinguished place- 
 in these Memoirs, if in the anecdotes of a descend- 
 ant from the common ancestor, those of the same 
 family can without indecorum be introduced, who 
 attract peculiar notice, by deserving it. 
 
 I cannot better describe this Gentleman, than by 
 copying an extract from a Letter which I have just 
 received from the coheir of the North H'elsh inhe- 
 ritance, Mr. Whitehall Davies; to whom I am in- 
 debted for many other communications, no less in- 
 teresting, than courteous, and liberal. 
 
 His words are these : 
 
 " Richard, being thus brought into contact with 
 "■ your Hero, cannot be dismissed without further 
 " notice. 
 
 * Robert his elder Brother was a deep scholar, and versed in 
 biblical studies. — John, when young, was admired for his wit, and 
 vivacity. It was the hahit tlien to say, " the Parson should have 
 !)<fen Squire, and vice versd." 
 
 " My 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 19 
 
 " My Father, when he was young, knew him 
 " well, and he never spoke of him but with most 
 " affectionate esteem. 
 
 " His epitaph designates him as the pious, and 
 "charitable. — It might have added that he was 
 " an Israelite ivithout guile;' so discharging the 
 " various duties of his pastoral office, that his Pa- 
 " rishioners crowded after him to the church, and 
 " literally fell upon their knees for his blessing. 
 
 " I contemplate him with absolute veneration, — 
 " He was an epitome of all that is excellent, and yet, 
 " with peculiariti/ enough to confer a singular fla- 
 " vour upon all that he did, or said. 
 
 " y/wecJo^e^ often illustrate a character the best. — 
 " In 1745, during the political flame of the two 
 " parties, and upon the verge of a contested election, 
 " one of his Relations rode up to the vicarage of 
 " Rhuahon with a message from the Bishop, im- 
 " porting, that, if Mr. Davies expected any favours 
 " from him, he must give his vote, and his interest, 
 " for the Court. 
 
 "'Well, Sir, (my Father asked him), and what 
 *' answer did you make to the Bishop ?' — ' My du- 
 " tiful respect ; but adding, that his Lordship was 
 " meddling with subjects of no fit concern for him — 
 " that his duty was, to visit the Diocese — to see his 
 " Clergy at their post, and superintending their 
 "flocks — carefully to advance the deserving, and 
 " them alone. — That, as to my vote, I should give 
 " it according to my conscience.' 
 
 " 'Well, and what said you to our cousin r' 
 
 " ' I said nothing.' 
 
 " ' What ! nothing to our kinsman ?' 
 
 " ' He did not come to me as my Idnsman, but 
 " as a servant of the Bishop. I treated him accord- 
 " ingly, and I told Roger to carry a tankard of ale 
 " for his horse." 
 
 c 2 
 
 Sneyd 
 
20 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 . Sneyd was a Colleger at Eton school ; and '• icent 
 " oJf'{\n the Eton phrase) to King's." 
 
 At both of those two seminaries he formed an 
 affectionate intimacy with Charles Pratt, afterwards 
 Earl Camden, who was a Colleger at Eton, and a 
 Fellow of Kings College, in the University of Cam- 
 bridge. — Through him he became, at a later period, 
 acquainted with Mr. Nicholas Hardinge, my father; 
 of whom, at first, he seems to have been afraid, 
 without a shadow of reason, except that my father 
 had a reserved countenance, and manner, with 
 tit rangers, though witty, social, and pleasant with 
 friends, and familiar companions. This fear wore 
 off, and he appears to have been his guest, as well as 
 admirer. 
 
 Perhaps the " constitutional timidity" which \% 
 marked in Miss Seward's portrait of him, may have 
 conjpelled him to be shy of a new acquaintance, who 
 lived more in the world, and whom he only knew 
 through the medium, and partiality of their common 
 (r\euf\,3Ir. Pratt, as bearing a high character for 
 classical taste. 
 
 The words of Miss Seward are these ; and, bating 
 only two words of that inflated style, which I always 
 considered as t!ie bane of her genius (brilliant as it 
 was)inproie, they are admirable. As in this por- 
 trait she had no bias upon her mind, we may ac- 
 credit her fidelity. We have also the advantage of 
 her familiar access to the original, of her acute ob-, 
 servatiou upon the circle of her L/c//^eW neighbours, 
 and of her lively pencil in delineating them : 
 
 " In my girlish days I knew him well, and always 
 *' shed tears of delight when I listened to him from 
 " the pulpit; for his manner of preaching was in- 
 " efl'ahle ; a voice of tremtiloiish/ pathetic softness, 
 " religious energies struggling through constitu- 
 
 tional timidity ; but in all his words, his looks, 
 " his manners, within, and without the church, 
 " there looked out of a feeble frame a spirit heati- 
 ^ fied before its time.'' At 
 
DR. SNEVD DAVIES. 
 
 21 
 
 At the same Eton school he became the associate, 
 and friend of that amiable Prelate, CornwalUs, first 
 Bishop of Liclifield, and afterwards Archbishop of 
 Cdnterhury. 
 
 Both of them, to my personal knowledge, re- 
 tained their school affection for him, and were proud 
 of him, as their friend. — I have heard Lord Camden 
 say, that he thought him, next only to Mr. Hardinge 
 (his brothei--in-law), the best classical scholar of iiis 
 age*. 
 
 If, as I rather suspect, in the declining years of his 
 life he felt the ambition of preferment, it was unfor- 
 tunate, that CornwalUs did not reach the Metropoli- 
 tan See, till a very few months before Davies's death. 
 
 To that excellent Prelate, whom I had the happi- 
 ness to know and cultivate, there is a poetical ad- 
 dress by Davies, at an early period of their lives, 
 perhaps not inferior to that, which I have described 
 as enchanting me at Eton school, in honour to 
 Lord Camden — at least it is a measuring cast be- 
 tween them. 
 
 1 have no precise date for the address to Cor7i- 
 wallis; but I should guess, that it was written a 
 little before 1745 — The date of the lines to Lord 
 Camden is 1743. 
 
 Amongst the Letters preserved at Kingsland are 
 many of Lord Camden, which I now possess in 
 the originals, by the obhging aid, and generous at- 
 tentions of Lady Knowles. 
 
 There is also a Letter of Davies to his ad- 
 mired friend, written, but not sent, either as having 
 been acidentally mislaid, or, as having been thought 
 by him too dull, and cold, for the demand of his 
 feelings, and of his taste; both which had, in gene- 
 ral, too little mercy to their own works. 
 
 * In this eloge, I of course make, and claim allowance for par- 
 llalitks. 
 
 At 
 
22 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 At the same Eton school he formed an acquaint- 
 ance with 3Ir. Dodd, afterwards of Swallow-Jield- 
 place in Berkshire, and a Member of Parhament 
 for the Borough of Reading. — ^They continued their 
 acquaintance at King's, where Mr. Dodd was a 
 Gentleman Commoner. 
 
 To this gentleman was attached Wlialey, of the 
 same College, his tutor. 
 
 The pupil was no scholar ; but he was a favourite 
 of many ingenious, and clever men, as well as of 
 others, who were exemplary in worth, and were of 
 high rank. Lord Fane described him as a Jine horse 
 ill brokc-in * . He was generous, open-hearted, and 
 convivial, — friendly, and hospitable to a fault. 
 
 fVhaley was of a more dissipated, and wild 
 character. He died in distress; and his Kingsland 
 friend, whom nothing else could have seduced from 
 his diffidence, for he had a modesty unexampled in 
 the estimate of his own powers, gave to him some 
 of his poetry, to be inserted in his Collection of 
 Poetical Miscellanies, published ^br bread. — But 
 his name ivas to be concealed — as it was. 
 
 From this Collection some of the Poems, written 
 by Da VIES, and judiciously selected, found their way 
 into Dodslei/'s Collection, but were still anonymoKS. 
 
 In one of Davies's Letters there is an allusion to the 
 difficulties of his friend ; and, as it is most honour- 
 able to his feelings, it shall be copied in its place. 
 
 It is not, upon the Hrst view, easy to account for 
 what is cdWed friendship, in the union of three such 
 characters. — But friendships, made at school, or even 
 at College, are seldom permanent. We are therefore 
 so pleased when they are, that we readily forgive, 
 and almost admire, the amiable prejudice of a per- 
 severing attachment, where merit on one side has no 
 claim, or, at the best, an equivocal one, to the ho- 
 nour, and sanction of the intercourse on the other. 
 
 * 1 owe this arch, and clever simile to the report of my affec- 
 tionate, ingenious, and pleasant friend. Lord Brayhrooke. 
 
 But, 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 23 
 
 But, amongst the Manuscripts preserved tt.t]Ki7?gs- 
 latid, there is a very short note from IVhaley to 
 Davies, and countersigned by Dodd, which is cu- 
 rious, because it marks what gave the first impres- 
 sion of Lord Camden s promising fame at the Bar; 
 and the fact is the more pleasing, because it arose from 
 the zeal of his professional exertions for Mr. Dodd, 
 his personal /'/-/ewe?. 
 
 He was Counsel for him, and victorious, in a con- 
 tested Election for the Borough of Reading, in 174O. 
 
 That as a boy Davies at Eton school was a gifted 
 scholar, and was eminent in classical compositions, 
 may be inferred, with safe analogy, from his youth- 
 ful works, after he had left College. 
 
 Indeed, vi^e have a powerful hint of his genius, 
 when at school, in a Poem from which I mean to ex- 
 tract some of the lines ; and in Whaley's Collection 
 there is an exercise at Cambridge, when he was not 
 more than 20 years of age, which has poetical spirit 
 enough to have then warranted the hope, that he 
 would make a figure as a Poet, if he would but 
 overcome his delicacy, and fear. 
 
 But when I name this amiable infirmity of his 
 nature, I think it will appear, that although his man- 
 ners were timid, his Muse, and his thoughts in her 
 school were as manly, as they were graceful, and 
 polished — They were much nearer to sublimity, than 
 to elegance (3Iiss Sewar-d's character of them); and 
 were marked with an originality of spirit, which 
 made him distinguished, by a superior cast, I think, 
 from some of his contemporaries, who have acquired 
 a more popular character, as being more pushed into 
 notice. 
 
 All accounts of him, that have reached me, describe 
 him as the most amiable of human beings ; cheerful, 
 though modest ; and pious, without parade of his 
 religion ; — friendly, humane, public-spirited, and vir- 
 tuous in every sense of that word. 
 
 In Wlialeys Poems there are more allusions than 
 one to the simplicity of his domestic, and moral cha- 
 racter, 
 
24 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 racter. — Tliey are not, I think, fVhalej/'s compo- 
 sitions. — If they are, they are the best of him, for 
 I see Uttle of genius in the rest of his works. Who- 
 ever has written them, as they give hints at least 
 of the poet, and the divine, 1 may as well copy 
 them here. 
 
 In a Poem which is " in praise of water," and 
 which has many admirable strokes of genius (but 
 which I feel a difficulty in ascribing to JVhaley, who 
 was a Bacchanal professed) is a charming portrait. 
 He is Romanized by the name of Gallus. 
 
 I copy these allusions with pleasure, upon their 
 own account, and as recommending the character 
 of Day IE s : 
 
 Hail then, ye limpid streams, that sweetly glide, 
 Daughters of Pinsley's * ever-flowing tide ; 
 But from your Sire in happy error speed, 
 Pleas'd to be lost in KingslancVs verdant mead ; 
 With you for fame while Mincio vainly strives, 
 Smce Maro 's dead, and tuneful Gallus lives ; 
 And as you, sweetly murm'ring, glide along. 
 Repay each murmur with a sweeter song. 
 Nor is the price beyond the gifts you bring, 
 Though Orpheus breathes upon the vocal string. 
 Soft pleasure sports along the banks you lave, 
 And health comes rolling on, at every wave. 
 
 In the address to John Dodcl are these lines : 
 Nor less sincere, though calmer joys arise. 
 With aspect mild when Gallus greets my eyes, 
 And challenges from this thy new abode 
 The hospitality he once bestow'd. 
 When Lempster sheep, long from the butcher kept, 
 Their master's bounty, and our hunger wept. 
 
 • A rivulet or brook at Kingsland. 
 
 And 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 25 
 
 And as on Pmsley's sunny banks we lay, 
 
 The cyder-tuns ran unperceived away. 
 
 Here, as in Greek, and Roman times, we fiiiu 
 
 The pious priest, and tuneful poet ]on\\\ ; 
 
 His verses, what good men sJwuld be — declare. 
 
 And his whole life informs us, what thei/ at e. 
 
 Davies had another Eton friend, or acquired for 
 him by his Eton associates (Dodd, fVhaley, and 
 Pratt), a gentleman whom I had the honour, and 
 the happiness to enjoy as my host Jar one liuppy 
 day; 3Ir. Aldwoiuh Neville, of BilUnghear in 
 Berkshire, father to Lord Brayhrooke. He was a 
 most kind-hearted, and benevolent man, highly ac- 
 complished, and well-bred, a generous friend, and 
 a most enchanting companion. In all duties of so- 
 cial, and moral intercourse, he was excelled by none, 
 but was for many of his later years withheld from 
 the world at large (as he was at tlie time that I had 
 the good fortune to be his guest), by the gout, which 
 crippled, and imprisoned him at home. 
 
 To this gentleman, when travelling abroad, there 
 is a very exquisite Poem by Davies, in imitation 
 of Horace, which I trust you will not be sorry to 
 accept. 
 
 I feel my own judgment honoured by the feelings, 
 and the taste of Mr. Neville, who (as Lord Bray- 
 hrooke informs me) was quite an enthusiast for the 
 poetical genius of Davies, and would often repeat 
 the lines of his verse, that were his favourites. 
 
 Mr. Neville married a lady, whose name was 
 Calandrini. She was the eldest daughter of the first 
 syndic atG'eHet'a,and was highly accomplished. Mr. 
 Neville had resided five years in Geneva, and mar- 
 ried this lady in two years after his return, when he 
 was Under Secretary of State, and M. P. for Reading. 
 
26 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 In a Life (by the celebrated 3Ir. Coxe) of a most 
 ingenious, but unassuming, and retired man, the 
 late Mr. Benjamin StiUingJleet, are many particu- 
 lars of Mr. Neville, entertaining in themselves, and 
 reported, with spirit like his own, by that pleasing 
 writer Mr. Coxe. But there are also what may be 
 termed some of Mr. Neville's worhs, and I cannot 
 enough recommend them to readers of taste. — His 
 account of his theatrical friends at Geneva has all 
 the charm, and grace of that astonishing meteor at 
 Ferney, but more simplicity of nature ; and his three 
 portrait-characters * are standard compositions, not 
 surpassed by those of Lord Clarendon. 
 
 Amongst them I cannot forbear to select, and re- 
 publish, that living sketch which he has drawn of 
 the eccentric Father to the late Mr. Windham*, so 
 universally admired, and lamented. 
 
 The father appears to have been, with shades of 
 difference, as extraordinary as the son. Both had a 
 passion for manly exercises. 
 
 Tliis portrait has captivated me ; and I have not 
 much fear that I shall be singular. 
 
 " Windham, tall, thin, and narrow-chested, would 
 vie with Price, in every feat of strength, and agi- 
 lity ; and so far he succeeded, that he was known 
 through London by the name of Boxing Windham ; 
 whilst few knew that his quiet friend 3Ir. Price, who 
 was eminent as a pugilist, could box at all. Fewer 
 yet could divine, that Windham would have excelled 
 in almost every pursuit but those he was seen to fol- 
 low ; that he possessed GreeJi, Latin, Spanish -j-, 
 and French, to a high degree, and knew something 
 of Dutch, and German. This was, however, the feet ; 
 
 * The subjects are, Mr. Price of Foxley, Mr. Windham, and the 
 Jfer. Mr. IVilliumson. 
 
 t He has proved his intimate acquaintance with Spanish, by 
 his witty, and acute criticism on the specimen of the proposed 
 translation of Don QuLrote by Smollett, in which he has proved 
 him grossly ignorant of the idiom, and as no less deficient in 
 that elegance, and beauty of style, which mark the original. 
 
 and 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 527 
 
 and from these various sources, his amazing parts, 
 equally quick and retentive, had di awn, and amassed 
 treasures of science, and amusement; — the more 
 striking from hisa|)parentdissipation : he was, besides, 
 a mathematician, mechanic, and draughtsman; could, 
 and did biiild vessels, and navigate them himself ; 
 m short, he was every thing. 
 
 ' ■ " He had an utter abhorrence of restraint, which 
 made him love to associate with those that put him 
 under none at all: here he might throw his legs 
 against the chimney, round himself into a hoop in 
 his elbow chair, and at the same time read one sub- 
 ject, and converse on another ; a method, he con- 
 stantly practised, and with what success the following 
 instance will best illustrate. One day in our Com- 
 mon room at Geneva (which for an hour or two after 
 dinner was the resort of every odd genius of every 
 country) two sets at the same time were talking on 
 different subjects; one'm English, the other in Italian. 
 Windham was between them, reading as usual, yet 
 occasionally joining with each in the language which 
 that party was speaking, and in a manner that would 
 have made you think him solely attentive to one 
 single subject. I remarked this, made another do so 
 likewise, and we both of us watched him for some 
 time; when our surprize was increased by his shut- 
 ting his book (which was old Brantome in Freiich ) 
 and telling us an excellent story which he had been 
 reading at the ver}^ time he had been keeping up the 
 doubleconversation. — Intoleranceoftheleastrestraint, 
 was a marked feature of Windham's character, and 
 serves as the best clue to unravel seeming inconsisten- 
 cies. This accounts for a man of nice honour, bright 
 imagination, and extensive knowledge, often throw- 
 ing away such talents, on those who could neither 
 do credit to -that honour, entertain tl^at imagination, 
 nor improve that knowledge. In his friendships he 
 was never known to fail ; tlie friends of his youth 
 (though he neglected their company occasionally) 
 
 were- 
 
28 lELUSTRATIONS OF LITERATUIIE. 
 
 were ever nearest his heart ; nor could he die, w-ith- 
 out leaving us marks of his latest remembrance, and 
 affection. 
 
 " The lively beauty of his countenance was most 
 striking, and every feature spoke genius ; it was im- 
 possible to see, and not admire him : to this, when 
 he chose to please, he added an address that could not 
 fail to captivate*. Such was the man, who, with the 
 additional advantages of connexions, and fortune, 
 would have died almost unknown to his country, had 
 not the Militia been established. He instantly adopt- 
 ed the measure, and pursued it with such sense, and 
 vigour, that in a short time he had the honour of 
 being pointed out as the man, who by his pen, 
 and his example, had most contributed to carry it 
 into perfection. 
 
 " During his travels he was peculiarly attentive 
 to the system established in the Prussian army, at 
 that time the school of Europe. He applied the 
 knowledge he had thus acquired to the advantage of 
 his country. In the Seven Years'' War, he pub- 
 lished an Essay to prove the Necessity of a regular 
 Militia, to oppose the Invasion with which we were 
 then threatened by an inveterate Enemy ; and on 
 the establishment of the Militia, he became a Lieu- 
 tenant-colonel in that of his native county. While 
 in this office, he introduced a new, and superior 
 mode of discipline ; and may be considered as one 
 of the first, who contributed to explode our anti- 
 quated system of tactics, which, in spite of its many 
 absurdities, and the improvement made in other 
 countries, still maintained its ground in England. 
 He reduced the exercise to a simple, and systematic 
 form ; and by the publication of his " Plan of Dis- 
 cipline for the Militia of Norfolk,'' rendered his 
 own corps a pattern for others. This work was 
 
 * I remember seeing at Mr. Garrick's, in the Adelphi, a 
 nhole-lengtli figure of nitn, in a picturesque liabit, and present- 
 ing a most elegant form. G. H. 
 
 highly 
 
DR. SNEVD DAVIES. 
 
 29 
 
 hiolily esteemed by the best judges of military dis- 
 cipline, and the Author deservedly received the ap- 
 probahon of the patriot, and the officer. 
 
 " His treatise on the subject is well known, and 
 admired even by the Regiilan;; I liavc heard Ge- 
 nerals declare, the Author was himself one of the 
 best Battalion Officers in the service, and might 
 with opportunity make a great Commander in 
 Chief. In this, however, they were mistaken ; he 
 wanted constitution : even the Militia-duty was too 
 much for him ; and greatly helped to hurry him to 
 his grave. He left a son, who promises, at this early 
 age, to inherit his father's virtues, snd abilities." 
 
 One more of these characters, that of 31r. fVil- 
 liamson, will appear in the Appendix. 
 
 resume Davies; it appears by Letters, that he 
 had also an acquaintance, admirer, and friend, in ]Mr. 
 Richard Phelps, who writes to him from Italy, two 
 classical, and most ingenious notes upon scenery, and 
 the works of art. — These Letters, dated I751, prove, 
 in what a high estimation lie held his Kiiigsland 
 friend. 
 
 Davies's father dying in I732, when he was 22 
 years of age, and having left him a competency in 
 the living at Kiiigsland, and in some portions of 
 his landed property, I should apprehend that he soon 
 began to reside there. It appears, that from thence 
 he corresponded with such of his friends in the world 
 as he loved the most, and the best. The circle was, 
 I dare say, extensive at first, and by degrees dwindled 
 awav to few, very few, and those in general, of a turn 
 like his own, retired, studious, and spell-bound by 
 the Comiis of literary taste, whose dominions are not 
 of ample extent. — I must here introduce a passage 
 in Lady Knoidess letter to me ; 
 
 " D.WIES 
 
30 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " Davies resigned t^e world. He took little con- 
 " cern even in his own jDecuniary affairs, lived in 
 " his library, where his books, like those of the 
 *' Hermit in Vaucluse, were his friends ; but, want- 
 " ing the all-powerful charm of love, and female 
 " intercourse, to soften asperities which his mode of 
 " hfe probably infused, he might, perhaps, have be- 
 " come a little too philosophically satirical in his 
 " views of tlie ivorld, as formed of splendour in 
 rank, and wealth ; but loving, still to the last, 
 " those he had loved in youth, and the immediate 
 " circle of those around him." 
 
 His character had singularities in it, and weak- 
 nesses too (who is exempt from them :) ; but the 
 average, if I may use that phrase, was beauty of 
 moral deportment, and worth. His nature was mo- 
 dest, his manners gracefully gentle, his life the mir- 
 rour of sainted innocence, his vein rich in classical 
 taste, and spirit. He had the most affectionate 
 warmth of heart, but with it a sensibility a little too 
 susceptible for perfect happiness. 
 
 It will appear, I think, in that morahzing, and 
 beautiful Poem, addressed in early days to his friend 
 Cormvallis, that he felt himself disappointed ; but 
 had acquired (or thought he had) philosophy enough 
 to enjoy a cheerful obscurity, though at the same 
 time he warned his friends to avoid the example 
 of his unambitious indolence. 
 
 But I now come to apart of his life that is almost 
 romantic in its good fortune. 
 
 Instead of the common fate, that baffles youthful 
 hope, in the solitude, or society worse than solitude, 
 at such a distance from the world, he discovered at 
 Presteigne, within aye/<; miles of him, a congenial 
 spirit in the Rector of that parish. All his earlier 
 friendships " hid their diminished heads." He ad- 
 mired, revered, and loved him, with unexampled, 
 and with unlimited affection. Both were unmar- 
 ried ; both admirable scholars, especially in classical 
 
 taste ; 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 31 
 
 taste ; both friendly, and zealous in their attachments. 
 The name of this gentleman was Timothy Thomas. 
 He was of Christ Church, and presented by Ed- 
 ward Earl of Oxford, in 1/26, to that rectory. 
 Their correspondence was never discontinued, and 
 they wrote verse together. 
 
 It appears, that in the earliest part of their inter- 
 course, they had between them translated Popes Es- 
 say on Man into Latin verse. Frequent allusions to 
 it are made, but no vestige of it appears. 
 
 They met occasionally in the alternate characters 
 of host, and of guest; but, notwithstanding their vici- 
 nity, the roads which are now desjjerate enough to 
 rioal antiquiti/, were, I should think, in those days, 
 what a celebrated wit in our profession called " the 
 feathered way, because none but the birds of the air 
 could pass over it.'' 
 
 I have the first Letter of Davies to this interest- 
 ing neighbour, in which he solicits his correspond- 
 ence. It is dated in 17,37. Unfortunately we have 
 but one Letter of Thomas upon subjects of literature, 
 to lay before the reader ; and we have not one of 
 his authenticated works in Poetry (though Davies 
 alludes to him as an Author in Verse, and as a joint 
 author with him) except a laughable jeu d esprit, 
 preserved in his hand, fit only for the amusement 
 of the hour, and of the scene. 
 
 I come now to a painfully delicate subject ; but a 
 sense of honour to him, as well as to the first Lord 
 Camden, makes it necessary to avert a censure, 
 which, unexplained, would reflect in different views 
 upon both of them. 
 
 It is also (and therefore I touch upon it with an 
 additional motive) an affecting theme of remark 
 upon one disadvantage of a public school. 
 
 ,1 do not go into the old story of debating the 
 hackneyed problem ; whether habits of extravagance, 
 and of early vice at these public seminaries can, 
 though mischievous in themselves, be overbalanced 
 
 by 
 
32 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 by the advantage of contiexion, to boys of geuiu?, 
 but poor ; and by the manhness of spirit which ena- 
 bles the boy, when adult, in the noild's great 
 school, to cope with it the better. But I must remark 
 upon one of its fatalities, exemjjlified in Davies, 
 and which, I fear, egreditur pet sonum, in its pre- 
 valence. 
 
 Theyoud), who has preserved a high character for 
 his learning, for his morals, for popidar manners, 
 and for brilliant connexions, up to the period of 
 his departure from College to his Living, secluded 
 from the world, looks round hini at his contempora- 
 ries, who were also his friends. He sees one of them 
 a Judge, perhaps a Chancellor ; another a Bishop, 
 and perhaps a Metropolitan ; a third rolling in opu- 
 lence, titled, and at the summit of power. 
 
 He remembers, that at school they were at the 
 best his equals, in the fame of his genius ; but, alas, 
 what genius? what fame? that of writing good La- 
 tin verse; or, at the best, as being one of those who 
 are called great Scholars, — a most equivocal term. 
 
 Let him be ever so amiable, and let him be ever 
 so wise, he takes a false measure of his talent. 
 A miscalculated impression of his capacity induces 
 him to complain, with more or less of spleen in the 
 mode of it, if loud, or with pique suppressed in 
 a mind of delicacy, like that of Davies, " That he 
 *' is not what they are 
 
 To detect this plant of bitterness in such a patri- 
 arch of sweet simplicity as Davies of Kings/and, 
 may seem a Aistidious refinement of moralizing 
 criticism, and a kind of ungenerous inquisition, 
 through the pastor al habit of this angel's life, to in- 
 terrogate his ])illow whether all ambition had slept, 
 when his manners to every circle he filled were so 
 gentle, and " comtitutionally timid" 
 
 But, in the first place, I read it in his works. — 
 They are dignified, and beautifully moral admoni- 
 tions 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIE3, 
 
 33 
 
 tions, but a little sprinkled by Satire, though in ge- 
 neral disciplined by a y«c^/c/fl/ intellect, and by his 
 Christian temper of resignation. — In the next place, 
 I KNOW, that in the two or three last years of life, 
 and when he was upon the verge of sixty, unmar- 
 ried, unattached, and with all the competency which 
 he could enjnif, he was elevated by anihitious hopes, 
 for whioii nothing but nervous debilift/, pushed by 
 those hopes into nervous irritation, could account. 
 I KNOW, tliat Lord Camden, when Chancellor, had 
 preferment at heart for him, and could not accom- 
 plish it, either so expeditiously, or in such a rank 
 of elevation, as he had projected, and claimed. 
 
 Soon after his arrival in town, in 1766, he gave 
 to him as a keepsake, his own picture, and with 
 it an dlnge upon his friend, in which he disdainfully 
 marks, that he wants, and claims no preferment. 
 
 Yet I believe, that he had asked for it, even at an 
 earlier period ; and I know, that because he did 
 not obtain it, from him, he complained of him for 
 neglecting him, took huff, repelled his efforts to be 
 on terms with him, and returned in a fit of spleen 
 to his Rectory, or to Lichfield. 
 
 I know that he made the remark to which I have 
 alluded as a natural one. Alluding to his verses in ho- 
 nour to tlie Chancellor, he said, " They are better, 
 " than he could write." — What is the key to this? 
 Not that his friend rejected him. Tliat Lord Camden 
 was a generous patron, his enemies would have al- 
 lowed; and that he had not one atom of pride, in the 
 vulgar sense of theword. Not, — that " meek" Davies,, 
 either was, or could have been, ever bold, and pre- 
 suming. He was remarkably the reverse. But that, 
 in a weak state of enervated healtii, and flurried spirits 
 at the parting scene of life, or upon the verge of it,, 
 he did not possess that self-con troal which his j)ri- 
 vacy had nourished, and wiiich his talents for soli- 
 tude had refined. 
 
 p In 
 
34 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 In his countenance, which the picture has retained, 
 there is an annable, and pleasing expression, but a 
 hectic hue upon the cheek, and an eye inflamed, as 
 well as prominent, which I recollect, that I remarked 
 when I saw it lirst in Lord Camdens parlour. 
 
 I suppress the lines of the eloge, because (to 
 mfj ear at least) though ingenious, they mark a very 
 impaired state in the powers of his genius, and spi- 
 rit of his character. The panegyric is lavish ; and 
 the contempt for preferment self-delusion. 
 
 He died in little more than two years after his 
 return from town ; and whether he owed his death 
 to a nervous decay in stamina, or to an oppressed 
 mind, either alternative proves, that he had lost him- 
 self' m this ill-fated journey to the Metropolis. 
 
 Amongst his companions and friends at Eton and 
 at King's we must not omit Richard Moiinteney, 
 who was a very excellent scholar, and published an 
 Edition of Demosthenes, A. D. 1731. — He was no 
 less intimate with Pratt tiian with Davies ; and 
 both of them, in their correspondence, allude very 
 often to him, as their favourite *. 
 
 1/37) the same year in which Davies begins 
 to correspond with Dr. Thomas, he was made Baron 
 of the Exchequer in Ireland. 
 
 Davies addressed him in these lines, not unworthy 
 of his favourite, SwiJ't ; 
 
 They tell me, Dick, that ^^ow 're preferr'd : 
 
 I 'm still in doubt — but so have heard. 
 
 Can you to be a Judge be fit, 
 
 That are notorious for your wit r 
 
 I'll grant that Wainwright may be dead, — 
 
 His venerable spirit 's fled, 
 
 * See " Literary Anecdotes," vol. II. pp. 192. 273 : vol. III. 
 p. 106. 
 
 It 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 It follows not, in Reason's Creed, 
 That j/ow are therefore to succeed. 
 What can mistaken Fortune mean ? 
 Is 't not enough that Swijt 's a Dtan f 
 But she must blunder now, anew, 
 And thus re.jeat her faults in j/ou? 
 Or may we not account for it 
 By a good-humour'd heedless fit ? 
 She now and then, by way of jest. 
 Forgets her maxims, long profest. 
 Rejects the useless, dull, and prim. 
 To honour merit — as a whim. — 
 But when, if thus proceeds the gale, 
 Will English wit in Ireland fail ? 
 Yet were this precious talent, wit. 
 The only point, that you have hit ; 
 Or if your sense, and skill in Laws 
 Paid homage to a venal cause ; 
 If this pretence your state updrew, 
 I would not own, that me you knew. 
 However highj/owr name, — howe'er 
 Inferior my poetic sphere. 
 But, as it is, at home I find 
 A dawning pleasure in the mind. 
 How will that honest Rovian face 
 Erect, the sage tribunal grace ? 
 As when the Laws were Cato's care, 
 Or Brutus fiU'd bis Prater's chair. 
 Proceed then to adorn your task. 
 The dignity, you did not ask; 
 With an applauding public voice, 
 To justify the Monarch's choice. 
 Yet hold — lest meaner flatt'ries blend 
 With all I dictate, as your friend, 
 D 2 
 
56 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 To give the joy its charter'd scope, 
 Without a selfish view, or hope. 
 It 's not Humili/j/'s pretence ; 
 Believe, at least, my Indolence, 
 No mitre, cross the Ii'isk seas, 
 Not ev'n Armagh, has bribes for Ease. 
 
 To resume Dr. Thomas, in whom this treasure 
 of Davies's Letters, now laid before the Reader, has 
 originated, I cannot better introduce them than by 
 his incomparable address to his friend, in verse, pub- 
 Hshed first in Whaleifs Collection of Poems, and af- 
 terwards in Dodsley, volume the Fifth. 
 
 They will, 1 trust, appear worthy of a more ele- 
 vated epithet, as their character, than, " elegant," 
 the encomium, suggested by Miss Seward ! 
 
 They are the very last in the second, and final vo- 
 lume of his friend ff^haleys Poems — a position of 
 theui, which convinces me, that he was more partial 
 to them, (and perhaps in honour to his friendship) 
 than to all the rest of his works. I have no date 
 for them ; but at least they were prior to A. D. 
 1745? the date of the title-page, consequently be- 
 fore he was thirty-Jive. Most of his Poems indeed 
 are of nearly a similar age, except those in Whaleys 
 first volume, dated in 1732. 
 
 The lines to Dr. Thomas are intitled thus : 
 
 TO THE REV. T. T. D. D. 
 BY A FRIEND. 
 
 French pow'r, and weak allies, and war, and w'ant ! — 
 No more of that, my friend ; you touch a string, 
 That hurts my ear. — All politics apart, 
 
 Except 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 37 
 
 Except a gen'rous wish, and glowing prayer 
 For British welfare, commerce, glory, peace. 
 Give partTj to tlje winds ! It is a word, 
 A phantom-sound, by which the cunning great 
 Whistle to their dependants; — a decoy 
 To gull th' unwary; where the master stands 
 Encouraging his minions, his train'd bands, 
 Fed, and caress'd, their species to betray. 
 See with what hollow blandishment and art 
 They lead the wing'd, their captives to the snare. 
 Fools ! that in open a;ther might have soar'd, 
 Free as the air they cut, — sipt purest rills, 
 Div'd in the Thames, — or bath'd in chrystal floods. 
 
 We have no badges; — no dependance own ; 
 No silken fetters can enclose the mind. 
 That loves, and claims the charter of its birth. 
 Heav'n knows, it is not insolence that speaks : 
 The tribute of respect, to greatness due, 
 Not the brib'd sycophant more willing pays : 
 Still, still, as much of party be retain'd 
 As principles demand, and sense directs ; 
 Else the vain bark without a rudder floats, 
 The wanton pastime of the veering gale. 
 
 This gentle evening let the Sun descend 
 Untroubled : while it paints yon ambient hills 
 With faded lustre, and with sweet farewell. 
 Here is our seat : — The Castle opposite, 
 Proud of its woody brow, adorns the scene. 
 
 Dictate, O ! vers'd in books, and just of taste, 
 The interest, and tliemeof the discourse. 
 Shall we trace Science from her Eastern home, 
 Chaldean ? or the banks of Nile, where Thebes, 
 
 Nursing 
 
35 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Nursing her filial Arts, majestic stood, 
 And pour'd forth knowledge fro o a hmdred gates ? 
 There first the marble iearnt to iniinick form. 
 The piliar'd temple rose, and pyramids. 
 Whose grandeur, undecaying, laughs at age : 
 Birth-place of Letters , where the sun was shewn 
 His radiant way, and heav'ns were taught to roll. 
 There too the Muses tun'd their earliest lyre, 
 Warbling soft murmurs, to Serapis dear, 
 Till, chac'd by tyrants, or a milder clime 
 Inviting, they remov'd, with pilgrim harps. 
 And all their band of harmony, to Greece. 
 
 As when a flock of linnets, if perchance 
 Deliver'd from the falcon's talons, fly 
 With trembling wings to cover, and renew 
 Their notes, tell every bush of their escape. 
 And trill their merry thanks to Libertj/. 
 
 The tuneful Tribe, pleas'd in their new abode, 
 Polish'd the rude inhabitants; whence tales 
 Of list'iiing woods, and rocks, that danc'd to sound. 
 — Hark to the chorus, lifting hymns to Jove ! 
 Li nis, and Orpheus, catch the strain, and all 
 The raptur'd audience utter loud applause. 
 
 A Song, believe me, was no trifle then ; 
 Weighty the Muse's task, and wide her sway. 
 Her's was Religion, the resounding fanes 
 Echo'd her language ; Polity was her's ; 
 And the world bow'd to Legislative Verse. 
 
 When States increas'd, and Governments were form'd, 
 Her aidless useful, she retir'd to grots, 
 And shady bow'rs, content to teach, and please. 
 Under her laurel frequent bards repos'd, 
 
 The 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 The rapid Pindar troU'd his patriot song, 
 
 Or Sappho breatU'd her spirited complaint : 
 
 Here the Stage-buskin ; there the Lyric choir; 
 
 And Homer'' s epic trumpet ! Happy Greece ! 
 
 Blest in her offspring ! seat of eloquence, 
 
 Of arms, and reason; — Virtue's Patriot seat! 
 
 Go search in Athens for herself, enquire 
 Where are the orators, and sages now : 
 Her arsenal o'erturn'd, her walls in dust, 
 But far less niin'd, than her Soul decay'd. 
 The stone inscrib'd to Socrates, debas'd 
 To prop a reeling cot. Minerva's shrine 
 Possest by those, who never heard her name. 
 Upon the Mount, where old Mus^eus sung, 
 Sits the gruff turban'd Captain, and exacts 
 Harsh tribute. On the spot, where Plato tauglit 
 His heav'nly strain sublime, a stupid Turk 
 Is preaching Ignorance, and Mahomet. 
 
 Turn next to Rome : Is that, the clime, the place, 
 Where once, as Fame reports, Augustus liv'd ? 
 What magic has transform'd her? shrunk her nerves? 
 A wiiher'd laurel ! and a mould' ring arch ! 
 Could the pure crimson tide, the noblest blood 
 Tliat ever flow'd, to such a puddle turn ? 
 She ends, like her long Appian, in a marsh. 
 Or Jordaii's river pouring his clear urn 
 Into Asphaltus, black, and slimy lap. 
 Patrons of art, and victors of n)ankind, 
 Bards, warriors, worthies, (revolution strange !) 
 Are pimps, and fiddlers, mountebanks, and monks! 
 In Tully's Bee- hive, magazine of sweets, 
 The lazy drones are buzzing, or asleep ! 
 
40 rLLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 But we forgive the living for the DEAD, 
 Indebted more to Jtome than we can pay : 
 Of a long dearth prophetic, she laid in 
 A feast for ages : O thou banquet nice ! 
 Where the soul riots with secure excess. 
 What feast of soul ! what pleasing, useful hours, 
 Reflected owe we to her letter'd sons ! 
 We by their favour Tiber'' s walks enjoy, 
 Their temples trace, and share their noble games 
 Enter their crowded theatre at will ; 
 Go to the Forum, hear the Consul plead ; 
 Are present in the thund'ring Capitol, 
 When Tully speaks ; at softer hours attend 
 Harmonious Virgil to his Mautuan farm, 
 Or Baian ; and with happy Horace talk 
 In myrtle groves, by Tz'twowe'i cascade. 
 — Hail, precious pages! that amuse, and teach. 
 Exalt the genius, and improve the heart. 
 Ye sage Historians, all your stores unfold, 
 Reach your clear, steady mirror ; — in that glass 
 The forms of good, and ill, are well pourtray'd. 
 
 But chiefly thou. Divine Philosophy, 
 Shed thy blest influence ; and with Arts appear 
 Of Graces born ; far be the Stoic boast, 
 The Cynic snarl, and churlish pedantry ! 
 Bright visitant, if not too high my wish. 
 Come in the lovely dress yow wore, a guest 
 At Plato's table ; or in Tusculum, 
 The Roman feasting his selected friends. 
 Tamer of Pride! at thy serene rebuke 
 See crouching insolence, and mean revenge, 
 Before the shining taper disappear. 
 
DR. SKEYD DAVIES. 
 
 41 
 
 Tutor of human life I auspicious Guide ! 
 
 Whose faithful clue unravels ev'ry maze ; 
 
 Whose conduct smooths the roughest paths; whose voice 
 
 CoiUi-ouls each storm, and bids the roar be still. 
 
 0 condescend to gild my darksome roof, 
 Let me know thee ,t— the Delphic Oracle 
 Is then obey'd, — and I shall KNOW myself. 
 
 It may perhaps be deemed an impertinence, if I 
 obtrude comments of mine upon this Poem : but 
 
 1 cannot forbear to ask the dispassionate reader, if 
 it is not pnett if of the highest class, full of manly, 
 and philosophical thought, spine, and poetical ge- 
 nius — if it has not caught the hem, at least, and 
 skirts of Milton robe. 
 
 An extract from it was published by 3Ir. Wil- 
 liam Duncomhe, at the end of his fourth volume, 
 in the Miscellaneous Imitations of Horace, edited 
 by him. He had inscribed that volume to iHr. 
 Davies by name. 
 
 His words, introducing the extract, are these : 
 "We shall close our notes with a just character of 
 " the ancient Rutnans, in an excellent Poem, which 
 " we think may be styled The Progress of Sci- 
 
 " ENCE." 
 
 This extract begins at the line, " Turn next to 
 Rome," &c. and proceeds to the end. 
 
 At the foot of the extract he adds a very hand- 
 some ^loge upon Davies. It is a just portrait of 
 his extraordinary character, which, really, and with 
 no colouring of the Muse, " blushed to find it 
 "Jiame." 
 
 " We ought not to conclude without returning 
 " our thanks to the Author of the above linc'^, Dr. 
 *' Sneyd Davies, Arclideacon of Derhij, for !.he 
 
 valuable assistance which he has given to us in the 
 
 *' course 
 
42 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " course of this work, though we are sensible, that 
 " we run the hazard of njf 'eading him by this tribute, 
 " as he is not 7nnre ready to confer favours, than 
 *' studious in declining all return." 
 
 It is a curious,and memorable fact, that in PFhaley's 
 Poems, dated 1745? these lines to Dr. Thomas, of 
 Presteigne, should be reserved, as the last in the 
 series, to do them honour ; and that, in twelve years 
 afterwards, the very same lines are selected by Mr. 
 Duncombe, as closing his volumes the best. 
 
 Before I copy the first Letter in this Collection, I 
 must here mark a delightful trait in the character of 
 the Poet. The Rector of Kingsland, u ho is now 
 possessed of these Manuscripts, owes the perpetual 
 advovvson of that living to the pure gift of Davies, 
 through his father, Davies's College friend, but no 
 Relation, to whom he bequeathed it by his will *. 
 
 The following Letter has no date of year expressed; 
 but appears from the context, as compared with cir- 
 cumstances, to have been written in February I738. 
 " Dear Doctor, 
 
 " I know not when this little packet will be deli- 
 " vered to you without waiting for Saturday's con- 
 *' veyance, the call of the post-boy being uncertain, 
 " and at midnight, 
 
 " If I thought, a delay would be inconvenient, I 
 " would send a purpose-messenger. 
 
 " I cannot thank you too often for the noble Edi- 
 " tion of Chaucer valuable in itself, but more so 
 " for the sake of the expositor, and the giver. 
 
 * Some explanations upon this topic will be necessaiy in the 
 sequel. 
 
 j- This was Urry's Chaucer. In editing this work, Thomas wrote 
 a Preface, and Glossary, which that matchless critic Mr. Tyr- 
 vihitt commends ; and praise from such a man is Fame. 
 
 " There 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 43 
 
 " There is something nervous, and manly in the 
 " written verses that you sent me; but are tSiey not 
 " a little stubborn, and obscure? Of the Author I 
 " have not the least knowledge, I read over and 
 *' over again, witli new pleasure, my dear Sivift on 
 " his own death, which is, like all his other writings, 
 
 most excellent. It is natural, without passion, and 
 " easy, without being flat. 
 
 " After perusal of it, I fell into some reflections, 
 " and began to consider with myself how far 
 " Rochejbucaulfs maxim was true, or the Dean's 
 " comment upon it. 
 
 " The general depravity' of human nature in tliis 
 " point I admit ; but I was thinkiiig,whether, or no, 
 " particular instances could be given to ihe contrary. 
 
 " It has been said, thdit Vh'gil, Horace, Fofins, 
 " and all the higher wits of the Augustan age, lived, 
 " and conversed in daily intercourse, not onlv with 
 
 complete good-nature, but in bosom friendsliip. 
 " It is clear, tiiat nothing of envy, or detraction, ap- 
 " pears in what remains of their works — indeed 
 " qu'ite the reverse*. 
 
 " The same was observed of Bolleau, Racine, 
 " and Moliere, &c. in France ; — of Sivijl arid Pape 
 " with us. You are aware, that weie I fond of 
 
 * I do not acquiesce in thisvemaik. Tliere is no evidence 
 that Varius and I'lrgil were com]>etit()rs in the Ep-'u-, ai.d sliil 
 fi-iends. That both Horace and ^'iri;;/ weie good-natured men, 1 
 admit ; and liiat Horace liad a passion, or, as we s-hould lliink, 
 rather too romantic a regard, for Virgil, we Ifnow from the une- 
 quivocal testimony of llie Lyric Poet liinist lf. But it strikes me as 
 a faint praise (like that «hic!i Fo/ie C{'n-iiiesin Aiidisun) liiat Ho- 
 race, who must iiave seen that imnioital poem the fieorgic.i, 
 (equal, if not superioi' to the /Eneid, in sublimity of th()nt!,ht 
 and majesty of expression), .should only say that liis fi icnd had 
 the " molle aifjiie facrtum" as a wri'.er of paslortd \ vv>c. The 
 Commentator tells UP that lie points at the Bucolics .Anwo, ;pid 
 supposes the /Rndd then unpublished ; but wiiy are ilif ^f w . ( 
 omitted as objects of ])r;ii-<' 5 it is the more cxti am linr.i y, bo- 
 cause in this vet y passage he cunimends Varius l-n' ])oeUtal .~piiit. 
 Jl.fgil never alludes to Horace. 
 
 " noting, 
 
44 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURK. 
 
 " noting, older instances could be fetched from 
 " Greece in the age of Plato. 
 
 " But jjerhaps this union may be said to have 
 " arisen from the ditierent })rovinces in wit, that were 
 " taken by those Authors. • If one excelled in He- 
 " roics ; anotlier in Tragedy; a third in Elegy; 
 " they might all of them be well contented. — But 
 " Virgil, and rarius wrote at the same time, and in 
 " the same way. Ti'uillus *, Ovid, and Propertius, 
 " did the same. After all, the differences between the 
 " rule, and the exceptions, may'be justly reconciled. 
 
 Some few great souls may have escaped from this 
 " mean character, or have be: n able to overcome it. 
 " But, as a mark of its prevalence, and strength, it 
 
 must be admitted, that no small degree of morality, 
 " and reflection, must be armed against it before we 
 " can thoroughly conquer it 
 
 " You and I agreed, some time ago, that, had not 
 " IVaterland overtopped him in the maintenance of 
 " orthodoxy, Middleton would have been to this 
 " day a believer. If it is true, it is a powerful ex- 
 " ample of pique at superior fame. 
 
 " You see how I lay open my little notions to you, 
 " without reserve. In truth, 1 should be timorous 
 
 with blockheads ; and would rather trust a man 
 " of sense with any thing of mine, that came upper- 
 *' most. Besides, had I known of Dr. Thomas 
 *' nothing but his judgment, I should have been 
 " more upon my guard ; but I knew something bet- 
 " ter of him ; for I knew his candour, and his ge- 
 " nerous allowances. 
 
 " I am not so punctual as to count the days, or 
 "the hours in a visit of yours. — Yet, from the 
 " shortness of your last, and from words to that ef- 
 *' feet when you left me, I am in hopes to see you 
 " again. Faithfully yours, Sneyd Davies." 
 
 * This remark is a little inaccurate; Oiid was no fiiend, or 
 competitof of Tibullus, nor one of his contemporaries. 
 
 " Remember 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 45 
 
 *' Remember the Lady's Poem, and return my 
 *' Translation, that I may correct faults. I should 
 *' be glad to have yours of the First Epistle ; but not 
 
 for the same reason." 
 
 Blest in this literary, and affectionate intercourse 
 of taste, and of the heart, these two accomplished 
 men could have said, as a lover said of himself and 
 of Iiis mistress, but with a better application. 
 
 Satis magnum alter alteri theatrum sumus. 
 
 Gray has beautifully described the life they led, 
 but without calling in tlie additional charm of their 
 polished minds : 
 
 Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife 
 Their sober wisiies never learnt to stray ; 
 
 Along the cool sequester'd vale of life 
 
 They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. 
 
 Indulging these habits of classical repose, he wrote 
 a charming Poem, dated Aug. 1 73.9, in honour to 
 the Goddess of Indolence, which he has called Va- 
 CUNA, from Ovid, and from Horace; though, but 
 from them, we are ignorant of her claims to divinity, 
 and they have not ascertained her privileges ; or the 
 position which is here assumed, for want of a better, 
 that she was the (Goddess of Ease, Idleness, or Ex- 
 emj)tion from Labour. Some treat the title as an 
 attribute of Minerva, others accredit Victort/, as 
 claiming it. Leisure, of some kind or other, seems 
 to be the natural import, from its analogy to vaco; 
 and it seems understood, that she had a temple 
 amongst the Salins worshiped by the peasants 
 after harvest. 
 
 This 
 
46 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Ihis Poem introduces Da vies in a new character; 
 that of humour, in a kind of stately ridicule upon 
 himself. But the cadence (to wjy ear at least) haa 
 a peculiar charm, superior to that of the lines to his 
 friend at Presfeiqne ; upon which account, though 
 it appears the first in the second volume of Mr. 
 IFhalei/s !*oems, I should have guessecl it the birth 
 of a later period, and sprung from a more careful at- 
 tention to rhithm. But I shall be much hurt if the 
 Reader should not think with me, that ni happy- 
 expression, poetical effect, and chaste w it, it is a per- 
 fect gem of its kind. 
 
 I have recently discovered, that it w as written in 
 August 1739. 
 
 Sceptre of Ease I — whose calm dominion spreads 
 Through the chili Chronian, or whose lagging weeds 
 Fan to repose the Southern realms ! w hose throne 
 More slaves obey than swarm around the Courts 
 Pekin, or Agroy — universal Queen ! 
 
 Me haply dozing through a summer's daj-. 
 Thy meanest subject, thou hast often deign'd 
 Ev'n here to visit. — If thy poppy then 
 Was ever shed upon my careless quill ; 
 If e'er the nodding Muse was blest with power 
 To lull the Reader with her opiate verse 5 
 Come, Goddess; but be gentle, not, as when 
 On studious heads attendant, thou art seen 
 At the night's twinkling lamp, with poring eye 
 Immers'd in meditation, Slumber's foe. 
 Where the bewilder'd casuist unwinds 
 Perplexities, or Halley, from his tower. 
 Explores the world of stars. — In other guise 
 Thee I invoke ; serene, and mild approach ; 
 With forehead smooth and saunt'ring gait; — put 011 
 
 Smiles, 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 4/ 
 
 Smiles, of no meaning, or in sober mood 
 
 Fix the dull visage, and the leaden eye 
 
 Lethargic, when it stares, and seems to think — 
 
 JReservc, by thee directed, keeps at home, 
 
 Intent upon his volume, or applies 
 
 The needle's reparation to his hose, 
 
 Or scissars to the paper. Taught by thee, 
 
 Dullman takes snuff; but ever, and anon 
 
 Turns o'er the page unread. — Others, more sage, 
 
 Place, year, and printer, ably noted, well 
 
 Examine the whole Frontispiece ; or, if 
 
 Yet stricter their inspection, venture in 
 
 From leaf to leaf, and, curious, there select 
 
 Italicks, or consult the margin ; pleas'd 
 
 With hero, or with anecdote ; — all else. 
 
 The observation, maxim, inference, 
 
 Disturb him into thought. — It sure were long 
 
 To name thy sev'ral vot'ries, pow'r supreme. 
 
 Or all thy varied realms. Why should I speak 
 
 Of news, and coffee, or where eunuchs play. 
 
 And where the buskin'd Roscius. These, and more 
 
 Flock to thy Temple, where thou sitst enshrin'd 
 
 In apatliies profound, and waste of time, 
 
 The sacrifice. — About thee dice, and cards 
 
 Lie scatter'd, and a thousand vassal beaux 
 
 Officiate in thy worship. — Nor from shade 
 
 Of Solitude withhold thy gentle sphere : 
 
 There, unattended, thou canst ever shrowd 
 
 Thy beauties, and thy attributes with me, 
 
 By vale, or brook to loiter, not unpleas'd, 
 
 And listen to the current, or the bee 
 
 That hums her fairy tunes in Flora's praise, 
 
 Or to loud rooks, on aged elm, or oak, 
 
 V^'faere, 
 
48 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Where, percli'd aloft, the legislature sits 
 Debating in full senate points of state. 
 
 My bow'r, my walks, and studies, all are thiiie ; iJ 
 For thee my shade of yew extends, my lavrn , :iH 
 Spreads the sot't lap, and waters whisper slee'p. i i i^w 
 Here thou may'si reign secure; nor hostile thou^l^''''| 
 Nor argument, nor logick's dread array, ~ 
 Make inroad on thy kingdom's peace. What, though 
 Malicious toni;,ut-s accuse me, and report .■ 
 That I am false to thee ; for that I hold 
 Forbidden commerce with Parnassian maids, 
 With Phoebus, and thy foes ; or, more severe, 
 Impeach me as a lurking Satirist ; 
 Known is my innocence to thee. It's true 
 That I can scribble, but the pen is thine : 
 Accept in proof, O Goddess, this my verse. 
 
 In one of his Letters, Aug. I4, 173S, he describes 
 the effect of Gulliver upon him in the following pa- 
 ragraph. 
 
 " I have all the day, and I confess it with no 
 " shame, been reading Gulliver, which I never had 
 " read from the time that I was at school. 
 
 " I laugh'd, and was grave, by fits. *. ' 
 
 " The humour has the most comic effect, and the 
 " morality chastises it." 
 
 In a letter upon the subject Mr. Whaleyy lie 
 marks obligation to Dr. Thomas, for his endeavours 
 to as!<ist that unfortunate man. 
 
 In 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 49 
 
 " I heard (he tells him) by a side-wind, that his 
 *' whole dependance was upon this Collection." 
 
 [This, I think, evidently points at the Second 
 Volume, published in 1745-] 
 
 " He is idle, even as a versifier; for you will see 
 " what I let him have, but he wants more. — To- 
 *' day's tinkering has been pretty successful ; and I 
 " have almost accomplished my part of the work." 
 
 Dr. Thomas thus addresses him : 
 
 " Presteigne, Dec. l6, 1743. 
 
 " I find, and wonder not, that Whaleys proposal 
 " puts you to some anxiety, as your humanity and 
 " kindness for him are likely to preponderate, and 
 " you would be as much concealed as you can. — 
 " Those pieces which you mention seem properest 
 
 for the purpose; though there are others of a more 
 " particular and private nature, which I dare say 
 " would find an agreeable reception from the public." 
 
 Whaleys Letters are negligent, and wild, but 
 sometimes elegant, as well as ingenious, and always 
 affectionate. 
 
 " Norw. Feb. 4, 1741. 
 
 He calls Wales " Goat-land.'" 
 
 u # * * I knew little of the great man *, but fear 
 " that he is tottering. Yet why should I fear? — I 
 " am a little creeping shrub, and below the reach of 
 " political hurricanes.' — As I cannot boast of any 
 " thing he gave to me, I am sure that nothing will, 
 *' or can, be taken away. — I like your verses to ho- 
 " nest Dick'\- very much, and have forwarded them 
 
 to Geneva.'' 
 
 " Dearest Sneyd, 
 " I hope you will think of those which you chuse 
 " to have published. — So far shall I be from printing 
 " a line without your consent, that I will never ask 
 
 * Sir Robert Walpole. 
 
 t Richard Aldworth Neville, Father to Lord Brayhroke. 
 
 E " you 
 
50 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " you to give me a line more than yourself shall pro- 
 " pose to me. 
 
 " Dr. IValler * is exceedingly pleased with your 
 "verses on Archbishop Williams's monument; and 
 " begs hard for a copy, to be writ upon vellum, and 
 " hung under his picture in St. John's Library : do- 
 " you consent to it ?" A 
 
 '!l " April 14, 1744. Bread-street. 
 
 " I had yours of the 3d at College, and thank j'ou 
 " for your verses on L. and C. -|- 'I'hey please all to 
 " whom I shew them. But Ben Richards thinks, 
 " ivhosefame. in the fourth line, should be whose 
 frame ; and laid Showell two bottles of wine it 
 " was so in the copy you sent me ; so I was called 
 " upon to produce your original, which I did, and 
 " drank part of his wine, with glee. 
 
 " Ironside likes them ; but wishes, instead of Das- 
 " tards, and Heroes, you had put Lestoch, and 
 " Cormvall." 
 
 " Some tobacco for Rees, if he recovers the deluge ; 
 " but, as I believe him ante-diluvian, why should 
 " not he be a post ? — Positively I do not mean a pun 
 " upon his dullness ; for, upon my word, I think he 
 " is a very illuminated smoker." 
 
 " Sept. 6, 1 742. 
 " 1 shall make my dear Snevi>s company the 
 " acm^ of the summer's pleasure, which has given 
 " me no common delight ; but, compared with 
 " Kingsland and my Davies, 
 
 " Loses discoAUitenanc'd, and like Sorrow feels." 
 
 " My DEAREST DaVIES, ,f ^^f.'^ 
 
 ' Mar. 28, 1743. 
 " I had yours of the 22d, and am sorry at your 
 complaints of ill health. — But it is a tax which 
 
 * One of the Senior Fellows of St. John's College, Cambridge, 
 and M. D. * Lestotk. and Cornwall. 
 
 " VOU 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 51 
 
 " you great geniuses pay to Nature, for your parts ; 
 " and we Boeotians have this advantage over you, 
 't that, although we are dull, we are healthy. 
 
 . " Exercise, and temperance! harbingers to health ! 
 " — why the name of either would throw a bon coni- 
 " pagnon into that acquaintance of ingenuity the 
 " hj/p. But of banter enough. I am as well under 
 " my late more temperate life, as I was in my looser 
 " days, and wish only that I could impart a little of 
 " my own obesity, and salubrity at Kingdund, ac- 
 
 cepting in return your walking faculties, and a few 
 "ounces of your sublimate in the vis poetica. We 
 " should then be two sizeable men between us, and 
 " moderate Poets, who could live, and chat with 
 " folks of this world. 
 
 " 0\d Buckingham* left Lord Orford-^ her exe- 
 " cutor; on which he said, it was but just the Pre- 
 " tender's sister should take him for her executor, 
 " when the King had taken Lord Gower for his 
 "Privy Seal!" 
 
 " I have not so much as heard of Mr. JVarhur- 
 " ton's ' Alliance between Church and State.' But 
 " I never conceived them to be far asunder, since 
 " Bishoprichs and their Translations were in the 
 " world." 
 
 " Dear Sneyd, Oct. 15, 1745- Norwich. 
 " I beg pardon for stealing so much of your time 
 " from your study, your walk, or your pipe, with 
 " any scrawl of mine. 
 
 * Catharine, Dutchess Dowager of Buckingham, natural daugh- 
 ter of King James II. by the Counters of Dorchester. The King, 
 her father, gave her the title of Laibj Catharine Dnrnleij, gave 
 her the rank of a Duke's Daughter, and j>ermitted her to bear 
 his arms. She was married, fii-st, to James; Earl of Anglesea, 
 and afterwards to Johu Duke of Buckingham. She died Jan. 13, 
 1742-.1. 
 
 •f- Sir Robert H'alpole w^5 30 created Feb. 9, 1741-^. 
 
 E 2 -In 
 
52 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " In revensje, li^ht the said pipe with it ; but, in 
 " charity, drink the health of him who daily thinks 
 " of you, and will contintie to do so as long as you 
 " live, and as long as he is J. IV. 
 
 " Respects to 3/r. Price's pipe; may it ever be 
 " warm, yet never dry ! — As the winter advances, I 
 " shall expect your Poetical quicksilver to rise, and 
 
 shall expect verse in every Letter." ^ 
 
 I jjossess the two v<ilunies of Mr. Whaley's 
 Poems ; and in the first is a line written in Davies's 
 hand. It contains an apology for printing again 
 the lines of Davies, called his Friend, in the Se- 
 cond Volume, wliich had appeared in the First ; — 
 and it seems that Mr. Davies had corrected them. 
 But they do not appear in the Second Volume. 
 
 They were most of them written when he was 
 extremely young, and when he had not formed that 
 peculiar taste, in which he acquired such power. 
 Yet even in these are passages which deserve to form 
 a part of the Appendix; were it only for the purpose 
 of marking his facility in rhime, to which, at later 
 periods, he had also occasional recourse, but still in 
 a manner very much his own ; — in which taste and 
 sense prevailed. A 
 
 — 'iBT^h 
 
 At the end of his Letter upon IFhaley's calami- 
 ties, he gives an admirable mock-heroic in honour to 
 a Mr. Rees Price, who is named often t© his friend 
 as their companion. 
 
 " I shall, e7i passant, examine Rees's library, and 
 " in the mean time caimot forbear to describe him 
 *• as refusing a dram. 
 
 " When 
 
1>R. SNEYD DAVIES. 53 
 
 " When Caesar, and when Cromwell, saw their crown 
 Presented, they unwillingly could wave 
 Thdt.t sparkling * pageant: In their look askant 
 \\^hat leatur'd variations! Pangs acute 
 Of doubt, and longing, how appall'd, and blank. 
 When tl)e decamping genius from their breast 
 Summon'd his train of spirits to be gone. 
 Thiis, conscious of self-perfidy, amaz'd. 
 With glowing cheek, and haggard eye, stood Rees, 
 When he refus'd his dram !" 
 
 He wrote upon the same tempting subject the fol- 
 lowing soliloquy of Rees Price, and accredited h'm 
 as the writer of it. 
 
 *• Plagues take me if I ever did a thing 
 That left within me such a venom' d sting. 
 As when this morning, with an idiot shame. 
 My soul I cheated — and refused a dram." 
 
 "N. B. On the fourteenth of the month of June, 
 " in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hun- 
 * dred forty and four, R, P. refused to drink a dram." 
 
 An Jcrostic is in itself the lowest class of poetical 
 ingenuity, and it is not improved by such a confe- 
 derate as the Pun ; but it cannot be refused its claim 
 to approbation, when it is turned so neatly as this 
 on Mr, 
 
 ; H H O L D S W O R T H. 
 
 H — umble in manners, in his air serene, 
 O — f aspect honest, and in office clean, 
 L* — ov'd and rever'd the most where most he 's known, 
 D — irecting moral conduct by his own, 
 
 * What a happy epithet in its double ai)plication ! 
 
 S — aga- 
 
54 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 S — agacious Mentor of unpolish'd youth, 
 W — ins the affections by the force of Truth, 
 O — bserves the genius, to inforni the heart, 
 R — eproves with tenderness, commends with art, 
 T — hus draws the hidden seeds in virtue forth, 
 // — olds ontthe hand that points to real worth. 
 
 In one of his Letters he describes, in a manner 
 worthy of Mr. Gray in his Letters to l^f^est, and 
 very Hke it, the anger whicli he felt at being called 
 Sir. 
 
 " You hipt me (are his words), for you began 
 " your Letter, Dear Sir. — I cannot reconcile myself 
 " to it, unless you tell me it means nothing; nor in- 
 " deed can I guess, or imagine, that it means any 
 " thing. — But a tenderness, though it may be a 
 " faulty one, makes one often suspicious in a wrong 
 " place; — and yet I cannot be easy to-night without 
 " notice of it, though my reason tells me it is ridi- 
 " culous to be alarmed." 
 
 In this half-equivocal passage, though wit has an 
 ample share, there is a delicacy in his friendship a 
 little too irritable, even at that early period. 
 
 He adds : — "I believe that I did not send you 
 " my verse on tlie Nativity — and yet, could a 
 " writer be a judge of his own style, I think it more 
 " in the run of Miltons verse than what I ever scrib- 
 " bled before." 
 
 I am not sure if I agree with him. but it would 
 be impertinence in me to differ from so correct a 
 taste ; and sure I am, that he deserves, upon that sub- 
 ject, a fair trial by his Peers. — Besides, I see beau- 
 ties in this poem, though I think it unequal, that 
 stamp him a Poet of masterl}' powers. I publish it 
 also as a feature of hh piety, in which, as well as in 
 the harmony of numbers, he emulated our British 
 Homer. 
 
 THE 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 55 
 
 THE NATIVITY. 
 
 Twas when remorseless Herod fiU'd the throne, 
 His children's butcher, and JudcecHs scourge, 
 A Ruler, fit, and worthy to command 
 The wry-neckt people with an iron rod. 
 When Salem, yet in festal pomp serene, 
 To her aspiring Temple's lofty gate 
 With sraother'd curses climb'd ; yet well at ease. 
 And reckt not, though with piercing bondage gall'd, 
 Long as the broad phyladcyy appear' d, 
 TliB market greetings, and the chairs of pride : 
 Save who, attentive to prophetic song, 
 Explor'd the sacred rolls, the mystic leaves, 
 And, days and years computing, found the time 
 Big with foretold events, and ripe for birth : 
 Curious, and gazing stood with speechless trance. 
 Not only /i«/aA, but the World, Fame 
 Had scatter'd widely, that a scepter'd Prince 
 Would rise, and rule the Universe ; but most 
 The race of Solyma, with eager haste 
 Their spacious portals op'ningj to let in 
 Messiah's glory, or on Zioji's top 
 Expectant when the Saviour should descend 
 In his aethereal equipage, all arm'd 
 In thunder, and with angels : when arrive. 
 And when his legions would their entry make 
 On flames of Seraphim in fiery car. 
 Their hope to be equipp'd with angry bolts, 
 And smite their blasted foe. — The Saviour came. 
 Not to destroy, but lift us into Heaven ; 
 Yes, he was botii ; — the pillow of his birth 
 
 A man- 
 
56 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 A manger ; — from his cradle Pride was rul'd, 
 And Royalties inferior blush'd. Were gold 
 Of price and worth intrinsic, or could gems 
 Have grac'd him, would Creation have denied 
 Her Author these? could thankless Nature grudge 
 The Giver his own gift? — She, at a nod. 
 Had pour'd her inmost treasures up to day, 
 Had roU'd her pearl, and coral to the shore, 
 To deck her Infant King. — But State had there 
 No sign; though Angels hymning sung the tale 
 In chorus, it was over BethlerrCs field. 
 And sung to lowly shepherds, where they lay, 
 Tending their fleecy charge ; their list'ning ear 
 Caught from their hovels the immortal strain. 
 
 Why in the firmament that beaming star 
 New kindled ? — Ask the Magi : from beyond 
 Euphrates, cross Arabian land and rock. 
 Directed by the meteor-guide they came, 
 The ray down-pointed, and the journey's end 
 Clos'd at the canopy of straw ; but see 
 Those rich and swarthy worthies ope their casks. 
 And, suppliants, prostrate on the knee, preseut 
 Oblation ricli, gold, myrrh, and frankincense. 
 To hail their King, their Prophet, and their God! 
 
 The Virgin-mother, pensive, and in doubt 
 What these portents could mean, or whither lead, 
 With tenderness refin'd, and pious awe, 
 Hung o'er the Child enamour'd ; much of Seers 
 And of the Angel's word revolving, she. 
 With sainted love, caress'd the Holy Babe*. 
 
 * The end is abrupt, and I should think he intended moFe 
 lioes. 
 
 Amongst 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 57 
 
 Amongst the relicks of this gifted Poet, so little 
 known, is a Rhapsody to Milton, which cannot be 
 introduced in a better stage of these Memoirs, and 
 which contains a most animated vindication of blank 
 verse, in strains worthy of his model. 
 
 Soul of the Muses ! and supreme in verse ! 
 Unskill'd, — a novice in the sacred art, 
 May I uiiblam'd approach thee — and implore 
 Thy blessing, inharmonious, pieas'd enough, 
 Shouldst thou vouchsafe to own me for thy son. 
 Thy son, though dwindled from the mighty size 
 And stature of the parent's ample mind. 
 Content enough, and bless'd, if but a line, 
 If but a distant feature half-express'd. 
 The birth can tell. — This privilege denied. 
 Grant me at least thy converse now and oft, 
 That I may ruminate the hallow'd soil. 
 And learn to build theloft}- rhime from thee, 
 Explore thy inspirations, and inquire 
 When from above ihey came, and how convey'd. 
 If darted on thee by the Sun's bright ray, 
 Meridian fire, or by the Sacred Muse 
 Nocturnal wafted in thy favour'd ear. 
 How else, explain, could human intellect 
 Grasp universal Nature infinite? 
 Or where, O tell me, couldst thou language find. 
 Of pow'r to bear the weight of such a theme, 
 So elevated, that all other verse 
 Seems trivial, not excepting Greece and Home ? — 
 Whether in air thy sounding pinions match 
 The shout of eagle's flight, or the pois'd wings, 
 Dove-like and silent, float upon the air. 
 Calm as the summer's breath, softer than down ? 
 
 Witness 
 
5§ 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Witness the scene of Eden, bower of love, 
 
 Of innocence, of happiness, o'erlaid 
 
 With hallovv'ci Fancy's texture, strew'd with flow'rs 
 
 Of amaranth, and streams of nectar, winds 
 
 To which perfum'd Arabia's breath is poor: 
 
 Witness a nobler page, where coping Gods 
 
 In battle rend the hills convuis'd, and shake 
 
 Heaven's basis — flashing gleam the painted fires, 
 
 And the imagin'd thunder seems to roll 
 
 More awefully than when it speaks in air 
 
 With Nature's dread appeal. But why select 
 
 A charm in gems like these ? what need of praise ? — 
 
 Who fondly seeks to praise thee, does thee wrong. 
 
 Impairs thee, greatest in thyself — nor Hell 
 
 Pourtray'd by other hand whate'er could shew 
 
 Its terrors, nor could Paradise her sweets 
 
 Touch by rude hands. — Enough then to admire 
 
 With holy silence, and the homage feel ; 
 
 Or, should we dare to follow thee, advance 
 
 With reverence, and shew that not a Ijope 
 
 To rival, but resemble, is our aim. 
 
 For, O great pattern to succeeding times. 
 Dost thou not smile disdainful to behold 
 The tinkling modern, — fetter'd, yet well pleas'd, 
 Dance to the tedious music of his chains, 
 When all Parnassus rings the silly chime, 
 And Pegasus, — that once with eager heel 
 Spurn'd the dull ground, — ridiculously tame, 
 Can amble with a monk upon his back ? 
 Could Millon think, when his high standard rear'd 
 The charter of his freedom, none should throng 
 To gaze and kiss the manumizing scroll ? 
 Dastards in choice ! What, Legislator, then 
 
DK. SNEYD DAVtES. 
 
 59 
 
 Avail thy banners, thy example bright ? — 
 As when some Hero, to redeem a state 
 Long harrass'd by oppression, lifts the arm 
 At Pride's imperious yoke, the many scar'd 
 Stand tremblingly aloof, and love the mace 
 That bruises them ; or, if the Chief return 
 In triumph, and with liberty assur'd. 
 Prize not, or know to keep the costly gem. 
 The Romans, on a time, a madman kill'd ; 
 Rather than not be lorded, chose a fool, 
 When Claudius in a lurking-hole was found 
 By search Pratorian — abject thus our age, 
 And slaves, because their fathers were, to rhime. 
 
 Is it then custom, superstition's plea, 
 The tickled ear that loves returiiirig sound. 
 The jingling charm that speeds, and cheers the course ? 
 A peal of bells were fit, if bards were mules : 
 The courser warns no spur. Ah me ! I fear, 
 I see, and feel the reason — faulters not 
 The Muse this moment, wearied ? — flags, and pants 
 Despairing ? Such a distance thou hast reach'd 
 In thy career ; — pursuit is left behind. 
 On Fame's transcendant height in laurel'd chair 
 Seated, and smiling thence on human toil. 
 That climbing, emulous, would pace in vain 
 Thy footsteps, trackless through excess of light. 
 
 This Poem was written in February I739-4O ; and 
 the following passage, in a Letter of Davies to his 
 friend, alludes to it with his accustomed modesty : 
 
 *' Auditor Benson will probably see the verses ; 
 " and, asi/OJf have approved them, I should come in 
 
 " with 
 
60 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 with the school-boys for one of his medals — not 
 that when I wrote them I thought of the Auditor 
 " and of his medals T 
 
 -ih 
 
 In the same Letter which adverts to the Nativity, 
 he intimates a wish that, as a monument of their 
 friendsliip, the last hand could be given to their 
 Translation of Popes " Essay." This, I suppose, 
 was in Latin verse; and, from their joint efforts, 
 would have been very interesting if preserved^ as 
 perhaps it is. 
 
 In the same Letter he tells his friend, that he dis- 
 agrees with Dean Swift ; and that he excepts to Ju- 
 nius Brutus, for the barbarity of standing by vptien 
 his children were executed. 
 
 " Cato,'' he adds, " was a pedant in Philosophy ; 
 
 was proud, stiff", and vain ; — as to Marcus Bru- 
 " tus, I will not achnire people who stab their friends. 
 " — If such a work is necessary, other hands could 
 " be found: Ex.gr. I have the highest veneration for 
 " the virtues of TimoJeon, to whom, perhaps I give 
 " preference over all the heroes of antiquity ; but I 
 " cannot reconcile myself to his act in killing his 
 " own brother, though a tyrant, and a scoundfel,-\ 
 
 In a Letter dated London, June 1740, he alludes 
 to my Father, and my Father's friend Mr. PelJiam. \\ 
 In that view it is interesting, of course, to me; but--i 
 it is very entertaining in itself, and I copy it here. 
 
 "Dear Doctor, - .y^l rsj - 
 
 " I have shifted the scene so often, and Ea^d 
 " moved about so frequently, since I left Hereford-\ 
 ** shire ; that I have not found leisure till this witVy'^ 
 " ment, nor have I now leisure enough to say more 
 " than a word, though to my friend at Presteigne. 
 
 " if 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 61 
 
 " if he is there, and, if he is not, rambling just 
 " like me. 
 
 " After a few days in Berksfn're *, I proceeded to 
 " the Metropolis, there to see friends, or to hear of 
 " them. 
 
 " But, most part of last week, I was at Kingston 
 " tipon Thames where Mr. Hardinge, of whom. 
 " yoii have heard me often speak, shewed me all the 
 " beautiful places in that neighbourhood, Richmond, 
 " &c. &c. to advantage, being acquainted with most 
 " of the ouners. 
 
 " Claremont a little disappointed me ; but Esher 
 " pleased me infinitely. — In short, I am Esher-mad ; 
 " but something will arise to pall one's pleasures; 
 " for, in the midst of my career, I met with a check 
 " from Pope's gardener, whom I could not induce 
 " to give me a sight of that paradise. Mr. Har- 
 " dinge, for some reasons, did not care to arcompa- 
 " ny me ; so that, as I went alone, and as Mr. Pope 
 " was at home, the repulse was unavoidable, and 
 " the fate of other strangers. — Why did not I take 
 " with me a line from you:|:, which, like the golden 
 " bough in J^irgil, would have been my passport 
 
 into Elysium? 
 
 " Do you remember the following verses in Ho- 
 ** mer § ? Apply them to Admiral Pieman, in his 
 " action at Porto Bella, &c. &c. Sneyd Davies." 
 
 * At Swallowfip.Ul , or Billinghear — perhaps at both. 
 
 f Canbury House, near Kingston, my Father's country scat. 
 
 J It is clear from this passage that Mr. Pope corresponded with - 
 Thomas ; ami he did not correspond with common men. The foL- 
 lowing passage in a Letter to Davif.s confirms the fact : " Are 
 " you not concerned for Pope? I did not know till now that 1 
 " had so great a personal regard for him. His conversation as 
 " well as writings have given me many hours entertainment. — I 
 " can hardly tell you how much it grieves me that I neither saw 
 " hirn, nor answered his last Letter." 
 
 § 1 have unfortun.itely singular opinions upon the subject of 
 Poets ; but I do not affect, or court them ; and think a man who 
 differs in a point of taste from the generality of the world is at the 
 best likeh- to be in the wrong ; but, if he piqufts himself upon it, 
 
 he 
 
62 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 As we now begin to see light in dates, I would 
 here beg your notice of two Letters written by Lord 
 Camden to his friend the Rector of Kingsland. 
 ■jThe first is dated February 14, 1743-4, 
 
 " Dear Davies, 
 " If you are dead, let me know by the return of 
 " the post, and our correspondence shall cease : 
 " but, if you are living, then tell me for what 
 " reason it is that you have forborne to converse 
 " with us, who are living too, as you used to do. 
 " I expected before this time to see you in town, 
 " but I give over those hopes now. I see you are 
 " rooted to that wretched spot * where you live; and 
 " that indolent disposition, which busy people call 
 " Content, has taken full possession of all your facul- 
 " ties. — You are buried, and have forgot your friends 
 " before they have forgot you. — As the principal 
 " business of this Letter is Cijder, I am afraid you 
 " will think this expostulation not so serious as it 
 " is. But remember you are a Letter in my debt ; 
 " and therefore the correspondence, exclusive of bu- 
 " smess, has failed of your side. I assure you that 
 " 1 am so provoked with your silence, that indigna- 
 " tion alone would have roused me to reproach you 
 " for this neglect ; and the rather because it is not 
 " particular to myself, but extends to all your other 
 " friends. Nm/lor, and IFhaley make the same 
 " complaint. If you are determined that your body 
 " shall always reside at Kingsland, yet send your 
 " mind abroad, and let the post-boy carry your soul 
 
 he is imjiertinent. — On the other hand, if I think Popes Hiad 
 no likeness of Homer in Greek, though a beautiful Poem in itself, 
 and if I think e%en as a Poem it has many tame passages, — his 
 version of the passage before us being one of them, it would be 
 servile c'.elicacy to suppress that opinion. The lines are these ; 
 Iliad, E. 640, &c. 
 
 *0; Taoli S;vf lx9J», Tv;;^' Wrruy AatousJovToi, 
 E|aXa?ra|t otoXiv, ^li^aa-i J' CLyvioi:. 
 
 *= I liope that Kingsland will forgive this profane picture. 
 
 " about 
 
DR. SNJEYD DAVIES. 
 
 6S 
 
 " about in a letter- bag. — This may be done while 
 " you sit in your great chair, and you will not feel 
 " the conveyance, . ' 
 
 " I set out upon the Circuit in a fortnight; but 
 " I leave a direction in town by which all the Letters 
 " forme there will be sent after me; and therefore 
 " do not let this be an excuse for not writing. 
 "^/^ t congratulate Herefordshire, and all the Cyder 
 " (!!ounties, upon the victory they have obtained in 
 " the House of Commons. — To be sure, you have 
 " heard of it. 
 
 " ffe talk here of nothing but the French Fleet. 
 " It lies now in the road before Dunkirh. — Norris 
 " is gone after them, with a force much superior, as 
 " we are told. Every body here is in great spirits, 
 " and we expect an engagement spon. 
 
 " As to Cyder, I want two hogsheads for Mr. 
 " Page, of the best that can be got. — I shall be gone 
 " the Circuit before you can procure this quantity 
 " and can send it to London ; and therefore I wish 
 ",you to direct it for Thomas Page*, Esq. at Mr. 
 " JlJordaitnfs, in Gerrard-street ; and write a letter 
 
 of advice to that place at the same time. 
 I ** I am, dear Sneyd, yours most affectionately, 
 
 " C. Pratt." 
 
 ' Young as I am (notwithslanding Lady Knowles) I have been 
 the guest of this gentleman, who died half a century ago. He 
 was a younger brother of the late Sir Gregory Page, and resided 
 at Battlesden in Bedfordshire. — He was one of niy Father's inti- 
 mate friends ; and we always baited there for three or four days in 
 our summer's tour to Knoll Hills. — He had the appearance of a 
 Quaker, and was in general of a serious turn, but of polished 
 manners, an excellent understanding, well cultivated, and of a 
 most benevolent heart. He never left this country seat, the git't 
 of his brother to him. He was blessed with n most beautiful wife, 
 who V\ as an aunt of Lord Howe, and sun ived her husband several 
 years. A gentle and sweet manner graced her beauty, and she 
 was handsome at a \ cry advanced age. 
 
 i.Tf ,»r. '.,0 [i 
 
 " Dear 
 
6'4 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " Dear Davies, Feh. 25, 1743-4. 
 
 " I thank }^ou for your Letter. — You have made 
 " amends for your silence before ; and I am satisfied 
 " as to the other part of my complaint, that you 
 " would not let us see you in town. If your stay in 
 " the country is like to prove advantageous, as you 
 " seem to think, 1 am more pleased, at this distance, 
 " to know you have such profitable views, than I 
 " should have been to see yon in town without those 
 " hopes. Go on, and prosper. — If we thrive in the 
 " world, and are destined to live many years in it, 
 " Fortune will take care to bring us together. — ff Tia- 
 " let/ was gone out of town, so that I must contrive 
 " to transmit the enclosed paper to Hohlyn. — I have 
 " read it over, but can make nothing of it. — As far 
 " as I can judge, it seems to contain materials for 
 " some curious disquisition, which will not be worth 
 
 knowing when the secret is found out and settled. 
 But you great scholars are always puzzling 
 *' your brains in some such notable inquiry as this 
 ^' appears to be. I should guess by this, that all that 
 *' is useful in Learning is soon known , for I observe 
 *' that, after a few years of study, when you scholars 
 " are tolerably perfect in the languages, and have 
 " read most of the good books that are extant m those 
 " tongues, the rest of your lives is generously spent 
 " in subtle disquisitions upon trifles, wherein though 
 " the search may, for aught I know, be entertaining, 
 " yet the discovery is for the most part vain and un- 
 " profitable. — I am afraid this my contempt of good 
 " learning is very -prnfane : therefore I would not 
 " have you publish it to my disadvantage. — I am ten- 
 " der of speaking too freely ; as, for any thing I 
 " know, the true understanding of this Dominical 
 " Olf/mpiad, in the first printed books, m.ay be of 
 " serious impoi'tance to the learned world. 
 
 Don't you mistake in your debt to Hardinge ? 
 " I think you owe him but one hogshead ; I am 
 
 pretty sure, upon memory, it is no more ; and I 
 
 " know 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 65 
 
 " know he expects no more. — ^You will direct his to 
 " Savile-row *, BKrlington-gardens. * * * * 
 
 " There has been an engagement in the Medifer- 
 " ranean, wherein we have had the advantage, but 
 " the particulars are not yet known. — We expect 
 
 every hour news that Sir John IVorris has fought in 
 " theChannel.— He is superior to the enemy in the 
 " size ar.d the number of ships: we are not therefore 
 " solicitous, but confident, respecting the event. I 
 " set out for the lVest'\- to morrow. Adieu. 
 
 " Yours, C. Pratt. 
 
 " Take care Dr. Crank |' does not forget me." 
 
 I Gome now to my favourite Poem, the address to 
 Lord Camden, then vMr. Pratt, written in 1743. 
 
 If Davies had only written this Poem, the 
 Reader will forgive my confident persuasion that 
 my enthusiasm for him as a Poet, originating in a 
 passion for these lines, will not be insulated, but will 
 be honoured by superior judgments with a counter- 
 signed d^ge. We are still in his favourite measure, 
 the Miltonic; and it seems to have rewarded his pre- 
 dilection for it, by its influence upon his ear, and po- 
 etical vein; though I shall have the happiness to lay 
 before you rhimes which have no common beauty 
 and force, often, I think, breaking a lance with Pope 
 himself, and marked by a character of sterling sense 
 in the eloquence of poetical numbers happily turned. 
 — But he is never so powerfully original, as in blank 
 verse. 
 
 * The house in which niy Father lived and continued his resi- 
 dence to his death in 175S. It was built by the celebrated Kent. 
 
 f The Western Circuit, in which he acquired great celebrity. 
 
 X This, gentleman is named witli honour in a Letter of Mr. 
 Phelps. 
 
 r To 
 
66 ILLUSTllATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 To Charles Pratt *, Esq. 
 
 From Friendship's cradle up the verdant paths 
 jOf youth, — life's jocund spring, and thence n>alur<f 
 To its full manhood, and meridian strength. 
 Her final stage ; — for she is ever hale. 
 Knows not old age, diseases, or decay. 
 Here, Pratt, we social meet, and gaze about. 
 Reflecting on the scenes our pastime trod 
 In Life's gay morning, when the jovial hours 
 Had bounding feet, and laugh'd themselves away. 
 Enchanting season 1 blissful prime ! where Thames 
 Flows by Etona's wall, and sees around 
 Her sons wide-swarming ; and where sedgy Cant 
 Bathes with slow pace his academic grove, 
 Pierian walks I O never hope again, 
 Impossible? untenable! to catch 
 Those joys again ! to feel again the pulse 
 Dancing, and spirits boiling in their frame, 
 Or see delights that with a careless wing 
 Swept on, and flow'ry garlands toss'd around 
 Disporting ! Try to call them back ! As well 
 Bid yesterday return ! arrest the wing 
 Of Time; or, musing by a river's brink, 
 Say to the wave that swiftly huddles by 
 For ever, — " From thy fountain roll anew !" 
 
 The merriment — the tale — the heartfelt laugh 
 That echo'd round the table, idle guests. 
 Must rise, and serious inmates take their place, ' 
 Reflection's daughters, there, and world-worn thoughts 
 
 * These names m H'haley's book, and in the first edition of 
 Dodsley's Poetoi, are under the mask of initials at the Authors 
 request. — It may almost be said of him, that he courted obsciu"ity. 
 
 Dislodging 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 67 
 
 Dislodging Fancy's empire. — Yet who knows 
 
 To poise a balance of tlie loss and gain ? 
 
 Who knows how far a rattle may outweigh 
 
 The mace, or sceptre ? But, as boys resign :. 
 
 Their playthings and their infancy's delight, 
 
 So fares it with maturer years : the sage 
 
 Imagination's airy regions quit, 
 
 And under Reason's banner take the field, ■ 
 
 With resolution face the pelting storm. 
 
 When all their fleeting rainbows die away. 
 
 Some to the Palace with regardful step, 
 And courtly blandishment resort, and there 
 Advance obsequious ; in the sun-shine bask 
 Of regal grace, and catch the Master's eye. 
 Parent of honours. — In the Senate some 
 Harangue the full-bench'd auditory, and wield 
 The list'ning passions by the power and sway 
 Of reason's eloquence — ■ or at the Bar 
 Where Soyntrs, Cowper, Talbot, Yorke, before 
 Sped their bright way to glory's chair supreme, 
 And worthy fill'd it. — Let not these great names 
 Damp, but incite ; nor Murray's praise obscure 
 Thy younger merit ; — for these lights, ere yet 
 To noon-day lustre kindled, had their dawn : — 
 Proceed familiar to the gate of Fame ; 
 Nor deem the task severe, — its prize too high 
 Of toil— and honour for thy Father's * Son. 
 
 The following document, however, proves to de- 
 monstration that it was written before October 25^ 
 
 * Lord Chief Justice Pratt was father to Lord Camden. Tlie 
 turn of this compliment, the manliness of the encouragement, 
 and the ingenuity thftt leads it up into the scene, are strokes, 1 
 think, of a master's hand. 
 
 F 2 1744, 
 
68 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 1744, which is the date of my Father's Letter to 
 Davies, now possessed by me, and lying before me. 
 — As I think it confers honour upon him, I annex 
 it here. — You will see that he alludes to this Poem, 
 and quotes from it. 
 
 " Dear Davies, 25 Oct. 1744. London. 
 " I will bring an action against you ; and it shall 
 '• be tried by a Jury from the neighbourhood of 
 " Parnassus. — But Charles Pi aft shall not be one 
 " <jf them. 
 
 '•' Have not I a double right to your verses upon 
 " the subject of Knoll Hills, both as a Poetaster 
 " myself, and as the owner of that scene r Do you 
 *' think it honest, that you should have borrowed 
 '* ideas from a farm of mine, and should not repay 
 " the loan with interest ? You will conclude, per- 
 " [laps, that he has forwarded the said verses to me. 
 " But I must undeceive you. — This very day, when 
 '* I had the hope to see tkem at his chambers, 
 " for I never could entice them from his pocket *, 
 " he has thoroughly disapjX)inted me. After search- 
 " ing all the repositories of neglected papers, frown- 
 
 ing-, and inquiring of his man, he had the bold- 
 " ness to look me in the face, and steadily to say, 
 '• that he had lost them ! — You are therefore to 
 
 make them good; and if you can expect any little 
 
 trifles in return, you must impart rhapsodies of 
 " yours, the most hurried, and the most incorrect, 
 " serious, or whimsical, to your admirer, and friend. 
 
 *' You must not forget that I am one who has 
 '•' been educated ^ . 
 
 i« Where Thames 
 
 Flows by EtoncC s walls, and sees around 
 
 Her sons wide-sn arming, and where sedgy Ca?H . 
 
 * Here is a feature of Davies s habitual and constitutional 
 riiftidence in his powers, brilliant a? they were. 
 
 Bathes 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 Bathes with slow pace his academic grove, • '1 
 y^if.I'ienan walks !" 
 
 And you must not believe that tiorld-ivurn * 
 " thoughts' have vet extinguished in me the vestal 
 " fire. 
 
 " As for Charles, he is a loose treasurer of poetry. 
 " I always foretold, and he begins^ to be afraid 
 " it himself, that he will succeed in his unpoetical 
 " profession He will soon be too much occupied 
 " there, to navigate the Ifi/e, or to hear the organ at 
 '■'■Hereford, or drink tea with Miss Henn, or Miss 
 " Pen, or dine at an ale-house in the golden vale.- — 
 " Consult him, if you will, upon tithes, or upon 
 " your marriage settlement. — But, if you desire a 
 -lasting corres])ondence with a Son of Idleness, yon 
 " must cultivate intercourse, and friendship with 
 "•'me. Charles encourages me to make this over- 
 'fslUFe,. 5md I shall expect a favourable answer. 
 
 ,<;T3dm4^-Yours, N. H.ardinge." 
 
 ,* j9>laofi 
 
 - ii'voit ,;• . 
 
 "•-I.likve named the Archhisliop of Cavterhury as 
 another of Mr. Davies's friends. — The Poem to 
 which 1 alluded, and still in blank verse, is by some 
 friends of mine thought not inferior to that which I 
 have recently copied. It is perhaps a measuring 
 cast between them. — But this Poem is additionallv 
 curious, because I think, as I have already said, that 
 it marks, though with perfect complacency of tem- 
 per, a disappointment in his ambition. — The ener;;y 
 of thought, and vigour of his intellect were, perhaps, 
 improved by that moralizing spirit which disappoint- 
 ments like these often generate in feeling minds; 
 
 * He itas then First Clerk to tlie House of Commons j but he 
 ■wrote verse all his life, English, and l.alin. 
 
 t He was, JikeDAViES, (thc!ii|yh with a confttant flow of animal 
 spirits) diffident in his opfrtion' of his tSknts,! till conviction ' 
 fla&ted upon him, that he possesied them. 
 
 but 
 
"0 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE, 
 
 but an amiable spirit is never absent, and beautifully 
 tempers the satire. Perhaps there is more fancy 
 and spirit here than in all the rest of his works. 
 
 To the Hon. and Rev. F. C, 
 By the same. 
 
 In Frolick's hour, ere serious thoughts had birth, 
 
 There was a time, my dear C J *, when 
 
 The Muse would take me on her airy wing, 
 And waft to views romantic, there present 
 Some motley vision, shade, and sun, the clifT 
 O'erhanging, sparkling brooks, and ruins grey : 
 M/sanders trac'd, and bid me catch the form 
 Of shifting clouds, and rainbows learn to paint. 
 
 Sometimes Ambition, brushing by, would twitch 
 My spirits, and with winning look, sublime, 
 Allure to follow. — " What if steep her track, 
 " The mountain's top would overpay, when climb'd, , 
 " The scaler's toil. — Her Temple there was high, 
 " And lovely thence her prospect. — She could tell 
 *' Where laurels grew — whence many a wreath antique;" 
 But more advis'd " to shun the barren twig 
 " (What is immortal verdure without fruit ?) 
 " And woo some thriving art; her num'rous mines 
 " Were open to the searcher's toil and skill.'' 
 
 Caught by her speech, heart beat, and flutt'ring pulse, 
 Sounded irreg'hir marches to be gone; — 
 What? pause a moment, when Ambition calls ! 
 No : the vain gallops to the distant goal. 
 And throbs to reach it. Let the tame sit still ! 
 
 * Frederick Cornwallis. — He would not let his frieud fill up 
 the name. 
 
 When 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 When Fortune at the mountain's verge extreme, 
 Array'd in decent garb, though somewhat thin, 
 Smiling approach'd, and " what occasion" ask'd 
 *' Of climbing? — She, already provident, 
 *' Had cater'd well, if stomachs can digest 
 " Her viands, and a palate not too nice ; 
 ** Unfit," she said, " for perilous attempt. 
 That manly nerve requir'd and sinews tough." 
 
 She took and laid me in a vale remote 
 Amid the scenes of gloomy fir and 5'evv, 
 On poppy earth where Morpheus laid the bed. 
 Obscurity her curtains round me drew, 
 And syren Sloth a dull quietus play'd. 
 
 Sithence, no fairy sights, no quick'ning ray, 
 No siir of pulse, or objects to entice 
 Abroad the spirits, but the cloister'd heart 
 Sits squat at home, like Pagod in a niche 
 Demure, or mutes, with a nod-watching eye 
 And folded arms, in presence of their King, 
 Turk or Indostan — Cities, forums, courts. 
 And prating Sanhedrims, and drumming wars, 
 Affect no more than stories told the bed 
 Lethargic, which at intervals the sick 
 Hears and forgets, and wakes to doze again. 
 Instead of converse and variety, 
 The same dull round, the same unchequer'd scene 
 Such are thy comforts, blessed Solitude ! 
 
 But Innocence is there, — but peace of mind, 
 And simple Quiet with her lap of down, 
 Meads lowing, tune of birds, and lapse of streams, 
 And saunter with a book, and warbling muse 
 
72 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 In praise of hawthorns*. — Life's whole business, this? 
 
 Is it to bask i' th' Sun ? if so, a snail 
 
 Were happy, loit'ring oh a Southern wall. 
 
 Why sits Content upon a cottage-sill 
 
 At even-tide, and blesses the coarse meal 
 
 In sooty corner ? why sweet Slumber loves 
 
 Hard pallets? — Not because, from crowds remote, 
 
 Sequester'd in a dingle's bushy lap ; 
 
 'Tis labour makes the peasant's cheering face. 
 
 And works out his repose — for East must ask 
 
 The leave of Diligence to be enjoy'd. 
 
 O ! turn in time frotii that enchantress Ease ! 
 
 Her smiles are feign'd ; her palatable cup 
 
 By standing grows insipid — and beware 
 
 The bottom, for there's poison in the lees. — 
 
 What health impair'd, what spirits crush'd, and maiin'd, 
 
 What martyrs to her chain of sluggish lead ! 
 
 No such observance Russ or Persian claim 
 
 Despotic — and as vassals long inur'd 
 
 To servile homage grow supine, and tame, 
 
 So fares it with our Sov'reis^n and her train. f niJ 
 
 . -1(1. 
 What though with lure ensnaring she pretend 
 
 From worldly bondage to set free? — what gain 
 
 Her vot'ries ? what avails from iron chains 
 
 Exempt, if rosy fetters bind as fast ? 
 
 Bestir ! — and answer your Creation's end ! 
 Think we, that man, with vig'rous pow'r endow'd. 
 And room to stretch, was destin'd to sit still? ' "* 
 Sluggards* are Nature's rebels, not her sonsj' ' ^^^^^ 
 Nor live up to the terms, on which they hold 
 
 * This appears to me very much in the best manner of Shake- 
 ' speare, polished by Milton. 
 
 Their 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 73 
 
 Their lease of life — laborious terms, and hard, 
 But such the tenure of our earthly state. 
 Riches, and Fame are Industry's reward ; 
 The nimble runner courses Fortune down, 
 And then he banquets, for she feeds the bold *. 
 
 Think what you owe your Country, what yourself ! 
 If splendour charms you, yet avoid the scorn 
 That treads on lowly station ! Think of some 
 Assiduous booby, mourning o'er your head, 
 AukI llience with saucy grandeur looking- down ! 
 Think of Reflection's stab, the pitying friend 
 With shoulder shiiig'd, and sorry ! Think that Time 
 Has golden minutes, if discreetly seiz'd : 
 And if an exemplary indolence 
 To warn, and scare, be wanting — look on me ! 
 
 I cannot better mark the versatility of Davies's 
 poetical talent, than by annexing to this beautiful 
 Poem a galanterie in rhime, no less gifted, of its 
 kind, " on the Hon. M'tss CormvulUss carpet:" 
 she was afterwards Lady Betty Southwell, was the 
 eldest daughter of Lord Cornwallis, and was the 
 Ardihishofp's niece. 
 
 In this fair work, the needle's light and shade, 
 Studious of ji^e, and guiltless of parade. 
 The Nymph displays the model of her mind. 
 With beauty,,. neat, — and solid, though refin'd. 
 What if no, flow' rets in the texture bloom, 
 Nor fruits and..folj£l^e, deck the varied loom ? 
 
 -* The verjj ^oul^gf ^ha^^eare is in these lines, to my ear at 
 least. 
 
 Yet 
 
74 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Yet these are threads, the Sister Gram' join, 
 
 Their off'rings to Minerva! s hallow'd shrine. 
 
 I hear her voice, and see her genial smile ; 
 
 *' It's thus my chosen fav'rites ever toil. 
 
 " 'Twas thus, — by ntie inspir'd, — that Grecian Dames 
 
 " Employ'd their vacant hours — illustrious names ! 
 
 " These in the fair Andromache were seen, 
 
 " Thus, when return'd, Ulysses found his Queen. 
 
 " Their silks unsullied laugh at fading age; 
 
 " The Tyrian carpet glows in Homefs page. 
 
 " Not that such meaner tasks engross the fair, 
 " Though pleasing samples of domestic care : 
 " The same bright eyes can traverse Learning's field, 
 " The same fair hands tiie pen, or pencil wield. 
 " golden fanes to them unbar the gate, 
 *' On their own sex the zealous Muses wait, 
 " And when to join the virgin-choir they deign, 
 " How sweet the notes I what spirit in their strain ! 
 
 " O that Britunnia''s daughters would approve 
 " The paths that lead them to esteem, and love 1 
 " Would know — unhappy wanderers — the way 
 " Lies not through balls, the masquerade, or play ! 
 " What ! — can they chuse to build upon the sands, 
 " When solid Fame on Virtue's pillar stands ? 
 " Like some fleet cloud be hurried by the wind, 
 " A gilded cioud that leaves no trace behind ? 
 " Not so 77]y votaries ; — 'tis theiis to shine 
 " Where use and elegance direct the line. 
 " Ti7}ie that hangs weighty upon slothful hands 
 " Attends their beck, and runs at their commands; 
 " The tyrant, as a vassal they employ, 
 " The foe that others murder — they enjoy. 
 
 " Ye 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 75 
 
 " Ye who, to follies prone, to wisdom shy, 
 *' To cards and fiddles for protection fly, 
 *' Ye pert, though listless, — and ye busy vain, 
 " What is your service in Minerva's train ? 
 " This — in reward of light and silly toils, 
 " 'Tis what ther/ want not, — you can serve, — as foils.''^ 
 
 The next Letter of Davies, improved by a date, 
 is of October l8, 1744- It is interesting personally 
 to me, because it al hides, at least as I conjecture, to 
 my Father, as 1 shall have the opportunity of ex- 
 plaining. 
 
 " My dear Doctor, Oct. iS, 1744. 
 
 " I was much pleased with your answer. I see 
 " your spirits were struggling with your weariness, 
 " and were getting the better of it, which proves at 
 " once friendship, and resolution. 
 
 " I will enclose the lines on Knoll*, because I 
 " mentioned them in my last ; but in transcribing 
 " them I am not pleased with them. 
 
 " Your humorous translation of Scaliger's epi- 
 " gram pleased me well ; and in return I send some 
 
 La^m and English. The Latin Ode, in my opi- 
 " nion, has much of Horaces spirit, and manner, 
 " and is almost the only good modern Alcaic I ever 
 " sawj-. But of that you will judge, when you peruse 
 " it. I do not pretend to enter into the justice of 
 " his encomiums on the two great men. But this 
 
 * A romantic seat of my Father's in Derbyshire, which Davies 
 had visited. 
 
 t This, alludes to an Alcaic Ode which 1 possess, and have 
 printed with my Father's other Latin Poems. It is addressed 
 by .Wr. Hardinge to Mr. Poyntz, maternal grandfather to Earl 
 Spencer. He was Preceptor to the Dulte of Cumberland. Mr. 
 Davies made a version of it into English. 
 
 " may 
 
J6 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " may be observed, to take off' the imputation of a 
 "courtiers flattery; that he is not a follower, bnt 
 " has long been an intimate acquaintance of theirs, 
 " &c. &c. &c." .■■A 
 
 1 am not enough acquainted with Scaliger to 
 know what are his works ; but, if the Latin epi- 
 gram in If^haleys volume of 1/45, page 178, is 
 written by him, the version, which is very neat, is 
 by Thomas: 
 
 On a young Lady of the Nortli. 
 By . 
 
 Though from the North the damsel camt>, 
 
 All Spring is in her breast, 
 Her skm is of the driven snow, ^^^y u 
 
 But sun-shine all the rest. Hoo8 ni 
 
 'O^\0t'«<\ 
 
 —————— ?69TjriT/ ' 
 
 ' -!9rl?o 
 
 I have a Letter with no date, but, from the .CQn- 
 text, in 1744 •• it is in itself so excellent, and above 
 all, to me, so interesting ad homines, that I must 
 copy it. 7 . > 
 
 But I have another reason for it. You wilT.-l'sefe 
 in it not only his wit, but the amiable simplicity of 
 his chanicter, and his readiness to believe tHat all 
 his friends loved him, as he loved them — upon the 
 least hint of their good-will to him. 
 
 You will see too his romantic Stoicism in those 
 days, carried, 1 think, to a weak extreme, against 
 all preferment, against even the acceptance of it., . , 
 
 He had therefore most wonderfully changed his 
 tone in 11 66, if he then solicited that vvhicfe here 
 he reprobates even if accepted. Nor do I knoiv 
 
 that 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 77 
 
 that he did solicit preferment, although, when out 
 of spirits, he nnay have complained, that it was not 
 obtruded upon him. 
 
 I know from the Bishop of Lichjield, who saw 
 him at Bath in 176*1, that he was then paralytic, 
 and weak in his health : a fact, which accounts for 
 tlie nervous irritation of his mind in \l66, and for 
 a new turn to his thoughts of rising in the Church. 
 Ttiis too agrees, in point of date, with 3Hss Se- 
 tvard\s portrait of hiui in the declining period of 
 his life. 
 
 " My dear Doctor, 
 
 " I desire you to send Starihope, and Simplicius, 
 " having questions to put to them, and in doubt as 
 " to the meaning of certain words, and passages. 
 
 " I perceive you bestow more of the lima upon 
 " some chapters than upon others ; but at the same 
 " time shew your judgment in the choice of them. 
 
 " You ask whether modern allusions be allowable 
 " in such a work — stricdy speaking, not — for the 
 " persona loquens should be simplex, et una — 
 " whereas you sometimes are in his place, and at 
 " other times leave him to himself. For example, 
 " when the names that are modern are used, T. T,-. 
 " speaks* — when he complains of lameness, we have . 
 " Epictetus* before us. Cannot you acquire^ the 
 " gout? and the exception then will be disarmed. 
 
 ■** You do Pratt great honour, which, if I tell 
 
 * in Epictetus, which he was translating into veise. This 
 critique is very sound, and chaste ; but one laments that such 
 a masterly Poet as Dry den should be guilty of a similar outrage — 
 )et in his Translation of the Tyrrhena Regum Progenies, amongst 
 the Roman figures he inti oduees the Lord Mayor. 
 
 t This reminds me of the celebrated painter in landscape, 
 son. My Father desired him to paint one of Tally's villas. — He ' 
 diUao ; and, as a help to thcpicturesijue in the portrait of the scene 
 as he found it, introduced the orator and his friends. — ,An arch 
 critic tecoi^mended that he should whiten their faces, and make 
 them Spirit f. * , . > - 
 
78 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " him of it, will hurt him ; for in his very last Let- 
 " ter he desires to be remembered by you, but not 
 " in the same breath with Murray, whom he does 
 " not presume to rival," 
 
 [" A paragraph in the same Letter gave me inti- 
 " nite satisfaction ; because I now again can say, 
 "that I never contracted an intimacy with any^jnfin 
 
 in whom I was deceived. ^.^^^ j^,,jr 
 
 " The words of Pratt are these : 
 
 " The night I came to Bath I met with Mount- 
 " eney *, to my extreme surprize, who was going to 
 " London the next day. We sat up together till 
 " three in the morning, and amongst other topics 
 
 we talked much of you. 
 
 " He is the same he ever was, and he acknow- 
 " ledges the sin of negligence to you as unpardon- 
 " able. He promised that you should hear from 
 
 him before he left England ; yet I doubt whether 
 " he has kept his word, because of the natural aver- 
 " siou most of us feel to do now w hat should have 
 " been done years ago. — He said, the cause 'of 
 " his delay was the intention to have answered you 
 
 in verse — and so he has waited all this while for 
 " inspiration I as if any Muse would have the con- 
 " descension to visit a Judge 1 — Hactenus Pratt.] 
 
 " You ask after Theocritus. — Hardinge and 
 " Pratt will not suffer me to go on. The last ex- 
 " torted my promise to translate no more, which 
 *' he calls loss of time. 
 
 " I believe you never saw the enclosed. It will 
 " be dark to you as you never saw the odd place 
 "here described, Knoll-Hills -f. I will add a 
 " maxim which I think you will admit : 
 
 * A Baron of the Exchequer in Ireland, a good scholar,, ainj^ 
 tlieEditor of Demo4</;e;ies. . . .. , 
 
 j- It was uncommonly beautiful, but eccentric an(l.ivitd.r ■ 
 
 " Sure 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 79 
 
 " Sure as the needle turns unto the pole, 
 
 " Sure as the byass ever guides the bowl *, 
 
 ^Second line now added.'] 
 
 " The man who takes preferment sells his soul. 
 
 " My courtier friends are angry with nie for it, 
 " and they dispute the oracular truth of it. — I fore- 
 " see a paper war on this head ; and make a formal 
 " requisition, our Embassador^ Rees, or in our 
 " own person, of your auxiliary force as our coiif 'e- 
 " derate and our ancient ally in so just a cause. 
 " Come into the field I under banner of your ma- 
 " nual and pray do not serve me as the Dutch 
 " have served the Queen of Hungary. — N. B. I tell 
 " them, the best way of disproving our maxim will 
 " be to get me additional preferment, and then leave 
 " me as independent as ever. 
 
 " What have you done to the roan mare ? I ne- 
 " ver saw such a change in so very short a time. 
 " She went from hence as plump as M^haley ; and 
 
 she has returned as lean as aughan of Lemster 
 " — from a country of oats too, for which I will pull 
 " Ralpho by the ears. 
 
 " You see I am in good spirits, notwithstanding 
 " the moist atmosphere, and you will take these 
 " fooleries by the right handle. They are deposita 
 " of confidence, that I would place in very few. 
 
 " S. D. 
 
 "rDr. Cranhe is just arrived, and I cannot send 
 " yoii Knoll-Hills as I intended." 
 
 " My dear Doctor, Nov. 15, 1746. 
 
 " * * * Who should occur to me, as I sat musing 
 '• by myself, who — (and with you I think — an odd 
 
 " connexion) — who but Lord C 1 and yet 
 
 " it may be you will see the chain. 
 
 * Tliis line is archly interposed, the Doctor having a passion 
 ioi-'hoxding. 
 
 t The Enchiridion of E^icletus. 
 X Lord Carteret. 
 
 The 
 
80 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 The time at Oxford pass" d, hear Gr — nv — lie* tell. 
 At Mother Bed Cap's had been pass'd as well, 
 The grove of Christ Church where the Muses sing. 
 The tongue of Mdnch was an idle thing, 
 Your tree owes nothing to its pruner's care, 
 And grounds untill'd the Hoblest harvest bear, 
 E'en let us drink the cool and liinjjid stream, 
 But curse the needless fountain whence it came. 
 
 " There are more of these lines, but I think we 
 *' had better leave off here, ;md so, good night. 
 *' Mr. Phelps -|- desired his service." 
 
 I am so delighted with Davies in Iiis Milton. s 
 habit, that I wish no part of it, when he had become 
 familiar to it, should be lost. — I therefore add with 
 pleasure a very humourous address to his friend 
 IVhaley, as employed in ranging his pamphlets. 
 The following passage, I thinh, alludes to it. 
 
 " You may conclude that I must have been dis- 
 " gracefully idle when I wrote the enclosed burlesque 
 " Miltonics, which, as I am now spying them upon 
 
 my table, I send, not as being specimens of ge- 
 " nius, but only to amuse you, and make you smile." 
 
 To J. W. 
 
 What ken mine eyes enchanted ? — man of ease 
 In elbow chair, and under brow of thought 
 Intense, on some great object tix'd, no doubt : 
 What mean the Mi/rmidons on either hand, 
 
 * Granville. 
 
 I Of this g-entleman wc liave more to ^ay hereafter. 
 
 In 
 
DR. SNEYD rVAVIES. 
 
 81 
 
 In paper coats, and orderly arraj', 
 
 Spread far and wide on table, desk, and stool, 
 
 Variety of troops, white, purple, pied, 
 
 And grey, and blue's battalion trim, and who 
 
 In marbled regimentals, some in vest 
 
 Gay-edg'd with gold, of chequer'd garb, and tongue, 
 
 And clime ;— extended o'er the wooden plain. 
 
 Not force more num'rous from her teeming loins 
 Pours forth Hungaria to the Danube's bank, 
 Croat and Pandoitr, nor the host in war 
 Of Turk ov N^adir, nodding opposite 
 With turban particolour'd. — Sing, O Muse, 
 Their marshal'd numbers and puissance. First 
 With sable shield and arms opaque advance 
 Divinities polemic — sober feuds 
 Yet deadly — and can rage the soul divine 
 Inhabit? Councils, synods, cloyster, school, 
 Cowl beats off cowl, and mitre mitre knocks, 
 Presbyi'ry here, in wither'd face askew, 
 Revenge demure ! and there devoutly fierce 
 Caiholicos in lawn, but streak'd with blood. 
 
 Not far behind, with her divided troops, 
 Comes Policy, with democratic shouts. 
 On one hand — on the other loud acclaim 
 For pow'r hereditary's boon divine ! 
 I see the various portraiture display'd, 
 Nimrod and Bridus — liberties — and slaves, 
 And crowns and breeches* flutter in the air. 
 
 Who next, with aspect sage, and parchment scroll, 
 Voluminous come on ? I know their beard 
 
 * " This alludes to the anus impressed on the money of the 
 Commonwealth." Note of the Editor in U'halcrj's book.— N. B. 
 It is whimsical "that Saris-eulottes s\\o\\\A 'have been the title of 
 the modern republicans in Paris. 
 
 (J Historic, 
 
82- 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Historic, and their style acute, whose edge 
 
 Fights hoary Time, maugre his desp'rate scythe, 
 
 And as he clt-aves the pyramid, apply 
 
 Their fuii)bli(tg props. — Hence Annals — hence De Foes, 
 
 And Memoirs, doubtful truths and certain lies, 
 
 And tales, and all the magazines of war. 
 
 What Muse, O Poesy, can pass unsung 
 Thy flowing banners, and gay tents adorn'd 
 With air-borne trophies? or would leave thy name 
 Un-catalogued, were it but, A'ineus like, 
 To beautify ihe list? — nor wantest thou 
 Offensive dans, till Satire's quiver fail. 
 
 All these, and more, came flocking, but await 
 Their dread commander's voice, and dare no more 
 Start from their place than did the stone of Tktbcs 
 Ere yet AmpHion sung. — From side to side 
 The sedentary chief, in studious mood. 
 And keen research, darts an experienc'd eye. 
 Forth from his presence hies the aide-de-camp, 
 A doughty Cambro- Briton *, to survey 
 The posture of the field ; from rank to rank 
 Posting, succinct he gives the word, how best 
 Light squadrons to advance, and wheel the course. 
 
 Vanguards to right and left." — Forthwith a band. 
 As at the sound of trump, obedient move 
 In phalanx — each and all their stations know, 
 And quarters, as the General's will ordains. 
 
 First at the call spontaneous Verse appears 
 To its due rank, and prompt as light obeys 
 The summons. — Peaceful Controversy sheaths 
 Her claws contracted, and makes room for Scot, 
 Leagued with Aquinas, nodding side by side. 
 And Bcllarmine, and Luther, heard no more 
 * R'lct Prirt. 
 
 Than 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 8^ 
 
 Than Delphic shrine, or Menmon's form. — Now mute, 
 All in due order, and in silence look, 
 A modern Convocation — Hist'ry lies - 
 With Hisl'ry — Hj/de and Oldinixon agree *. 
 
 Which, when the Marshal, from his easy chair 
 Of calimanco saw, knit his calm brow, 
 Thoughtful, and thus address'd the subject leaves : 
 " Ye Hierarchies, Commonwealths, and Thrones, 
 Folio, octavo ; and ye minor povv'rs 
 Of paper, ere to winter- quarters due, 
 Hear me, ye list'ning books. — First I direct 
 Submission to your lord, aud faith entire. 
 Did I not list you, and enroll your names 
 On parchment? — See the volume ! — Look at me. 
 Did I not mark you (as the Prussian mark'd 
 His subjects) for my service, when requir'd t 
 'Tis well — and let me next, ye flimsy peers. 
 Love, brother-like, and union recommend ; 
 Live peaceful, as by me together tied 
 In bands of strictest amity. Should then 
 Your master lend you to some neighb'ring state, 
 Auxiliaries f, remember ye preserve 
 Your first allegiance pure, and cheerful home 
 Return, when summon'd by your nat'ral prince. 
 Be humble, nor repine, though suiear'd with spots, 
 Or dust inglorious : know your birth and end. 
 Rags ye were born ; to rags ye must return. 
 
 For a little variety, though of a date posterior to 
 that of the Poems which remain to be copied, I 
 
 * " The Author begs pardon of Lord Clarendon for placing 
 Mr. Oldmixon so near him." 
 
 i' All this wit upou' his books lent out is;admirp.bk. 
 
 G 2 shall 
 
84 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 shall transcribe a passage in a Letter of Mr. Pratt 
 (copied by Davies) ; in which he appears to have 
 marked, at this early period, no common power in 
 delineating character. Tlie date is Dt cember I743. 
 It gives a portrait of Dr. George, Provost of 
 Kings, who had been a Master of Eton school. I 
 suppose it was written at King's College. 
 
 The character is masterly ; it is like the banter of 
 Tully upon Cato, in the Oration for Murtena, and 
 the words, but I confess liable to the suspicion of a 
 pun, " quae nonnunquam requirimus, ea sunt omnia 
 non a NutiUL;. sed a Magistro" I am not sure'if I 
 do not think him a little too cold, ujx)n the subject 
 of his poetical genius, in one sphere of it — in Latin 
 verse. He had there an ear, taste, and spirit of the 
 highest order, with a command of beautiful and ele- 
 vated thoughts: but, when that classical pen dropped 
 from his hand, he relapsedinto an absurd, though a 
 good-humoured and lively pedant. 
 
 " The new Provost is the delight of the Society, 
 " and behaves to every one's perfect satisfaction — 
 " released from all care, free, and jovial. 
 
 " This is very different from his carriage and 
 " conduct at Eton. I will try if I can account for 
 " it. 
 
 " He is naturally, in the same degree, good-na- 
 <' tured and absurd. He undertook the care of that 
 " school without parts, of the kind I mean that was 
 " necessary to govern it. This brought hiin under 
 " difficulties, from which he had not either sense or 
 " spirit enough to extricate himself. These plagues 
 " and vexations wrought upon his temper, and 
 
 made him sour. His absurdity, the gift of Na- 
 " ture, still remained ; and, by working upon a 
 " mind crossed by ill success, made him not only 
 " foolish, but proud, ill-mannerly, and brutal. 
 
 " You may see how that perverse disposition, 
 " which I call absurdity, or blundering ignorance 
 " of decorum, will make the same individual odious 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 85 
 
 *' or entertaining, as the temper in which it acts is 
 " in or out of tune. 
 
 " At present, as he has no care, his good-nature 
 " has returned ; so that now his absurdity, which is 
 " rather heightened than diminislied, gives an agree- 
 " able turn to eveiy thing he says or does. 
 
 " These men are very unfit for business which 
 *' call;- for steady abihties and steady resolution ; but 
 " make very excellent companions in private Hfe, 
 " especially where they are tinctured with letters, 
 " and have, like him, quick fancies, a good ear, 
 " and a powerful memory." 
 
 I venture to suggest my opinion that nothing in 
 Plutarch is more shrewd, is more piiilosophicaliy 
 just, or marks a deeper knowledge of the human 
 character. 
 
 Dr. Tknmns thus writes to Davies on this subject: 
 
 Dec. 2.3, 1743. 
 
 " 1 often have smiled at the character of the Pro- 
 " vost, which is drawn with much liveliness, and 
 *' your correspondent must be a pretty fellow. — The 
 " absurd is completely wound up in quickness of 
 
 parts and a great memory, which are generally 
 " considered as inconsistent, even to a proverb." 
 
 It may here be observed in general, that Mr. Da- 
 vies, bykeeping'up at intervals his acquaintance 
 with men ot' tlie world, and by his good sense, 
 though leading more habitually a secluded lift-, 
 writes like no hermit, but like a social companion to 
 the best and the most polished intercourse. The so- 
 ciety at Lichjield, a sort of London to him, improved 
 these habits — By the way, lie had more prefermeiit 
 there than I had imagined, or than his monument 
 has recorded ; for he had the Prebend of Longdon — 
 was Master of the Hospital — I learn too that he was 
 Archdeacon of Derby. — All these (and one records 
 it with delight) were the gifts of that incomparable 
 Prelate Cornwall'ts, then Bishop of Llchjitld. 
 
86 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 From one of his connexions at Liclifield, and by 
 the favour of the Dean, I have received a composi- 
 tion quite new to me, and supremely beautiful ; an 
 Alcaic Ode, which, for a little variety, and as mark- 
 ing the versatility of his talent, I here insert. 
 
 It is the rivulet jPrn^/e,?/, above mentioned, which is 
 here addressed. 
 
 O nata t'nno fonle *, volubilis; 
 Te, Lympha candens, qua celebrem lyri! 
 Q.uas lene distillas, meosque 
 Officiosa lavis Penates ; 
 
 Qiiippe aestuoso t sidere frigidum 
 Servas tenorem ; nec glacialibus 
 Obstricta brumis, usque % ripam 
 Lambis aqua metuente vinc'lum. 
 
 '< Hoc monte quondam Regia^,''' dixeris, 
 " Stetit tyranni parvula Mercii, 
 " Urna repercussus solebam 
 *' Exiguas numeiare turres." 
 Saxi vetustus quin pereat labor ; 
 Dum tu salubri || murmure pra^fluens 
 iEterne curras, in propinqui 
 Lajtitiam, geniumque pagi. 
 
 * Pinsley takes its rise in three lakes under Shobdon Court. 
 They are called The Lady Pools. Mr. Richard Price, of Knighton, 
 M. P. describes them to me as romantic in their scenery, and 
 as well deserving a visit from travellers who love the wild and pic- 
 luresq<ie forms of Nature undrest. 
 
 f Maik here the coincidence ! In a Letter to J. Dodd, 1740, 
 the Writer says — " on Pinsley's sunny banks." 
 
 + Here too is another feature. — The admirable Poem in praise 
 of Water, has " Pinsley's ever flowing tide." 
 
 II " Health comes rolling on in every wave." Ibid. 
 
 § It is reported by, Antiquaries, that the Kings of Mercia liad a 
 Palace at Kingsland. 
 
 If 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 87 
 
 If I translate this, for tlie benefit of the country 
 gentlemen, or the country ladies, I fear they will 
 not thank nie for it ; but 1 cannot resist an impulse 
 to the attempt. 
 
 Wing'd and bright stream of triple fountain borii ! 
 What harp shall thee wuh recoiii,jence adorn ! 
 In my domain the currents trip along, 
 Soliciting no tribute but a song : 
 Cool in meridian summer's parching heat, 
 The tenor of their step has twinkling feet; 
 Chain'd by nu winter's ice the waters flow, 
 And grace the bank with muMc as they go. 
 *' Upon tins mountain" — i could hear them say, 
 " Stood once a palace of the Mercian sway, 
 
 When from this urn renew'd my course I pac'u, 
 ** The turrets my observant vision trac'd." 
 
 Perish these ancient piles of iabour'd stone! 
 Be mine, dear wave ! but not be mine alone ! 
 The genial boon of health extend around, 
 Joy to the peasant — by the village crown'd ! 
 
 The following lines are admirable, and in Mar- 
 tiats best manner : 
 
 Fib. 5, 1744. 
 
 Ad T. T. D. D.— S. D. 
 
 Dum tu fraterno celebras natalia ritu. 
 Si quid me poterit detinuisse, rogas. 
 
 En obstaiit mihi multa, repagula multa negoit, 
 Cur te non visum, cur mihi non piaceam. 
 
 Non adsum, fateor, convivas inter amicos ; 
 Sin animam spectes — nee minils alter ahest. 
 
 A curious 
 
88 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 A curious Letter now before me again brings 
 Lord Camden, his favourite, upon the scene. It 
 opens with four ludicrously polished lines of mock- 
 heroic verse, and gives the hint of an Opera intended 
 for Handel, which, I suppose, came to nothing, 
 for we never hear of it again. 
 " Dear Doctor, 
 
 " O you that lobsters in a basket bring, 
 " And bottled shrub to make Apollo sing, -' 
 " Come, often come, nor think I grudge the feast, 
 *' A miser would rejoice at such a guest." 
 
 [You see (were it only from this one specimen) 
 that he had an easy and fluent command of rhimei^ 
 
 " You have a right to these lines, not only because 
 " I address them to you, but as being the legitimate 
 " produce of your punch the night you left me. — At 
 " least I hope you will accept them in part of pay- 
 
 ment for the Latin couplet received this morning. 
 
 " The Opera for Handel is begun, at the request 
 " of his friend. — Be sure it is the first and last of the 
 " kind as a foolery of mine. 
 
 " The Argument is taken from Lici/. You will 
 " have the contents and plot when you hear next. 
 
 " Pratt, who is a musician (that is, he icas be- 
 " fore Law un-harmonized him) bids me lie upon 
 " my oars till he can find leisure to give directions 
 " concerning the genius of musical verse — the 
 " length of the performance — the numbers and the 
 " talent of the singers — how to adapt the subject of 
 *' each air — to ascertain the number of choruses, 
 " and their position. These are very arduous diffi- 
 " culties. &c, &c. S. D," 
 
 I resume Davies, the Miltonic Poet. He has 
 written a Night Thought, which I am not afraid of 
 settino- by the side of Foung himself. 
 
 Oct. 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES, 
 
 89 
 
 Oct. 4, 1744. 
 " Why should not we have Night Thoughts^ as 
 well as Dr. Young, though less voluminous ?" 
 
 A NIGHT THOUGHT. 
 
 Mortal, whoe'er thou art — beware! since Time 
 To a thatch'd hovel, or triumphant arch, 
 Levels alike the undiscerning scythe, 
 And Death, wide-sweeping, no distinction owes 
 To the crown'd villain ; — all alike in hell, 
 Caligula, and Chartrcs, seated both 
 On burning couches in the fiery hall. 
 
 Whence is that milder blaze of aether pure, 
 As op'ning clouds a scenery divine 
 Unfold ? where brightest in a robe of sky 
 Sits Virtue, under shade of palm, with look 
 Stern, tho' serene^ — Herculean strength behind 
 Waiting, and trampled worlds beneath her feet. 
 Nearest her throne, associate ever dear, 
 (Not sullen Cato, nor the patriot's aim 
 Of Brutus, nor imperial Ccesafs pride) 
 Epaminondas, smiling at his blood, 
 For his lov'd TV/^/mw^ ; Antoniiie, the just, 
 The wise, the humble ; Nerva loo \% there, ,, 
 Humanity imperial, pleas'd in death 
 An heir * adopting, who shall bless mankind. 
 All the choice few, union of great and good ; 
 Poor Epidetus, with his free-born soul ; 
 Mart's cheerful wisdom, Boi/le with study wan, 
 Beneficent, and meek. Th' Athenian^ sage. 
 The Indian %, in abstruse debate suhJime 
 
 * Trajan, \ Socrates. 
 
 t Confucius. 
 
 Of 
 
90 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Of the fiist good, their eyes turn'cl up to Heav'n. 
 The shielded saint rejoices in her sons, 
 Gather'd around, and pick'd from all the world. 
 
 In the Kingsland Collection I have obtained the 
 sight of a few Letters, addressed by Dr. Thomas to 
 his friend ; but they make one regret that one has 
 not more. They unite the gentleman, scholar, and 
 friend. 
 
 " My dear Friend, 
 
 " I thank you for yours of yesterday, and parti- 
 " cularly for the sheet enclosed in it, which I do 
 " not mean to return till the next opportunity. 
 
 " If 1 were any judge of such performances, 
 " which I am not, I cannot be an impartial one, on 
 " account of the bias which my regard and friend- 
 " ship create in your favour. Whatever appro- 
 " bation, therefore, I may express in perusing this 
 " new flight of your Muse, will be regarded by you 
 *' as little more than prepossession. 
 
 " You know I have always thought your genius 
 " would exert itself successfully in dramatic enter- 
 *' prize. Indeed I was led into this opinion on per- 
 
 using an extemporary essay of yours in that line. 
 
 " The litile sketch now before me confirms me in 
 " this creed. — As it is the first onset, it really sur- 
 " passes what I expected even from the earlier hint 
 " of your hand. 
 
 *' In your three first speeches, if I must establish 
 " precedency and preference, I should rather incline 
 " to that of l^'alerius. — It is, according to your own 
 " rule, more negligent and familiar, but strong. 
 
 " Of this at our next meeting; but let me desire 
 " in general tliat you would not suffer your nicety 
 " of taste, and of judgment, in compositions like 
 " these, to exercise too powerful a check on the vi- 
 
 " gour 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 91 
 
 " gour and bold spirit of your genius. — Catch your 
 " thoughts at the first hand, and fly with them to 
 your paper ; a revisal will soon find but little /?ec- 
 canios ; or, I should rather say, will destroy the 
 beauties of nature, 
 
 " Do you design that Brutus should make his 
 " first appearance in that speech ? or will you shew 
 " him first as personating the fool, and played upon 
 " by Tarquin ? What think you of introducing 
 " him in that very scene, whilst they are talking of 
 " this ramble, and frolic to their wives ? Let them 
 " sport with him, and let him answer with all the 
 " habitual archness of the lunatic fool. — When they 
 " are gone to horse, let him burst into this high- 
 " spirited soliloquy." 
 
 [I can scarce recollect an example of such mo- 
 desty in two such ingenious and cultivated minds.] 
 
 " My dear Friend, Avat'. 5, I745. 
 
 " I now return the MS sheet. * * * 
 " I long to see the scene where Lucretin is visited, 
 " with her maids employed about her. You know, 
 " that story is told by Ovid in his Fasti. Upon 
 " reading it there, I have been thinking that after 
 " some chat with her maids (to one of whom you 
 " could give a lover there) about the news of the 
 " Camp, one of them could ask her mistress to sing 
 " that pretty song (and it may be adapted to the 
 " occasion) which she used to amuse herself with ; 
 " and while this scene of the woman is transacting, 
 " Collatinus and his companions may be looking on, 
 " and listening in the anti-chamber, and may then 
 " break in upon them. — But am not I impertinent 
 " in offering any hints ?" 
 
 " Nov. 17, 1745- 
 " Your design of not imposing upon yourself the 
 " task of a rejfular progress from scene to scene is 
 
 " right. 
 
92 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " right. You will find the method of working up 
 " a scene or character here and there, just as hits 
 " your fancy at the time, preferable on many ac- 
 " counts, and the last work is to sew them together 
 " in a regular form. — I own to you, that when 1 first 
 " gave the hint of a song, I imagined Lucretia's 
 " attendants might be introduced, as Ovid and the 
 " History have represented them, at the wheel and 
 " the distaff ; and 1 have observed that it is as natu- 
 " ral for women, in that business and situation, to 
 " be diverting themselves by a song, as for a cobler 
 *' in his stall. — But what particularly gave me the 
 " notion of it was, those lines in Ovid put into Lu- 
 " crefias mouth, and which I have sometimes fan- 
 " cied her to sing. — Mittendu est domino mute, nunc 
 " properate -pueLlce : — and what if I should make 
 " you smile, by singing you a stanza on the occa- 
 " sion? But the method you have taken in shewing 
 " them at needle-work is better, for it would be 
 " hardly possible to represent them at the other 
 " business without offending the taste of a modern 
 " audience. But representing them as you do must 
 " answer, as it is agreeable to our notion of the em- 
 " ployment of good Queen Bess, and her Maids of 
 " Honour." 
 
 Dr. Thoynas's Letters are very unequal, are in 
 general short, and, upon the whole, much inferior 
 to those of his friend, especially in style ; yet there 
 are some clever passages here and there. 
 
 He ends one of them prettily, and with a good 
 heart, — as well as good Latin. 
 
 " Feb. 14, 1742. 
 "In hisce rei nummariae angustiis — (Bentleii 
 " verbis utor) non est cur tibi sis molestus de com- 
 " puto inter nos conferendo: noveris enim (sed mini- 
 " me noverint universi) domum banc (saltern quo 
 
 " scribo 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 93 
 
 " scribo tempore) non esse exilem ; sed multa su- 
 " peresse qua? (si perruperint) prosint furibus. — Ita 
 " pronuntiat T. T; scilicet 
 
 " Tiniotheus Tuissimiis.'" 
 
 In a letter of the same year thus he interrogates 
 him : 
 
 " Is IVIialejf come, teres at<pie rotiindus, that 
 " you may urifeed him in South Wales ?" 
 
 In a Letter of 174I : 
 
 "If Pulteney has deserted, it will often put me in 
 " mind of Khis: James's expression when Prince 
 " George left him: "What! is ' Est-il possible' 
 " gone too ?" 
 
 " Jug. 2, 1742. 
 " When I told them how extra-generously it was 
 " given to me in iisum Timothei et amicorum, they 
 " condemned me for accepting it ; — ' but indeed it 
 " ' was most kindly done ; and I have not had any 
 " 'venison this year, and I think 1 never tasted 
 " ' finer — ' nor fatter,' says another ; — ' and it is 
 " 'admirably roasted — another piece, if you please — 
 " 'and now your hand is in, pray cut ?rie another — " 
 " ' a little of the fat, if you please, for there is quite 
 " 'enough of it for us all."' 
 
 " Dec. 1745. 
 A most incomparable Pun ! 
 He says, " You see there is a Regiment of Lawyers. 
 " They never can make a stand; for is not their 
 " maxim, ' Currat Lex " 
 
 Of Davies's Dramatic Muse there is not a vestige 
 to be found ; and of Thomas, nothing but these 
 
 Letters ; 
 
94 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Letters ; yet both were authors, and Mr. Davies 
 often alludes to his friend as a joint Poet with him- 
 self, especially in Imitations of Horace. 
 
 In this difficult branch of composition, Davie*!, 
 I think, had peculiar merit; and, consulting variety 
 again, I will part with him at present in blank 
 verse. Indeed, I am not aware of any other Poems 
 in that measure but the Ep'ithalamlum to Mr. Dodd, 
 the Song o'i Moses, and that of Deborah. The two 
 latter have passages in them which are truly sublime, 
 and the rhythm is inferior to none in the other 
 Poems which I have copied ; but there is less of 
 originality, and less power in the general effect of 
 the verse. 
 
 The Epithalamium is too beautiful to be sup- 
 pressed, and will have its place. 
 
 To resume the Imitations oj' Horace, I shall now 
 produce one of them, in tlie shape of an address to 
 Lord Camden, written, I should think, between 
 1732 and 1745; perhaps a very little time before 
 1745, because he alludes to his friend's professional 
 occupations; which, I think, were not commenced 
 (in power and command) before I740. 
 
 To C. P. Esq. 
 Translation of Horace, Book I. Ep. II. 
 
 [I nmst here beg of the learned and classical 
 reader to put the original before him ; because muc'a 
 of the happiness, in this branch of his Muse, arises 
 from the accuracy of the version, without prejudice 
 to the air and spirit of an original. 
 
 From this time, except in the Epithalamium, I 
 shall produce Mr. Davies in rhyme alone. I con- 
 fess myself delighted by the ease and flow, grace 
 and spirit, of these compositions in a Poet who has 
 marked that he was averse to rhime, and who shone 
 in a more stately measure.] 
 
 VVLiJe 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 95 
 
 While you, my friend, were pleading at the bar, 
 1 read the Writer of the Trojan war. 
 Whence good or evil, shame or honour, flows. 
 The Philosophic Bard exactly shows, 
 With useful rule and sage instructions fraught. 
 Beyond what Grantor Chrysippus ta-w^ht. 
 What makes to me this bold assertion clear. 
 Unless a golden brief detains you, hear. 
 The tale which tells how, arm'd by wanton Love, 
 For ten long years two bleeding Nations strove, 
 Contains a turbulence of tide that springs 
 From heated mobs, and witless pride of Kings. 
 
 Give up the cause of strife, Antemr cries : 
 But hear the lover, and what replies; 
 " Nor health, nor life, nor empire's easy charms. 
 Can force the ravish'd fair-one from his arms." 
 
 Good Nestor strives the fierce disputes to quell. 
 In which Achilles and Atrides swell. 
 Keen love deprives one hero of his rest, 
 But rage in either sways the ruffled breast. 
 The people's loss from Regal error springs. 
 And subjects pay the want of sense in Kings *. 
 Sedition, falsehood, guilty lust, and rage, 
 The camp, alike, and garrison engage. 
 
 Again, what virtue, wisdom -join'd, can do, 
 The wand'ring Prince of Ithaca will shew. 
 Who, Troy in dust, on many a distant shore 
 Had studied human arts, and manners more. 
 
 * There is often a peculiar force in the dignified simplicity of 
 thought and language It appears to be exemplified in the ener- 
 gy of this line, which has the additional merit of improving the 
 subject by the variation, — for the word pay goes beyond the word 
 plectuntitr, and it serves to heighten the image it sustains. 
 
 He, 
 
96 ILLUSTRATIONS OJ LITERATURE, 
 
 He, o'er the sea by raging tempest borne, 
 Toil'd for his friends, and for his own return ; 
 Stemm'd Fortune's wave, and, with unwearied pain, 
 Plung'd in adversity, he rose again. 
 The Sj/ren lays are known, and Circt's draft, 
 Which, like his comrades, had their leader quaflTd, 
 Unmann'd, he would have rued the harlot's wine, 
 Yelp'd as a dog, or roll'd in mud a swine. 
 
 We are life's expletives, to eat or drink, 
 Shunning its only good employ — to think. 
 IVe are Penelopts disorder'd train. 
 Youths of the soft Alcinoiis's reign — 
 A vicious crew, that lull the tortur'd breast 
 With midnight song, and sleep at noon caress'd. 
 The murd'ring felon leaves the restless bed, 
 And ere the sun is up his victim 's dead : 
 When to his neighbour's doom the villain hies, 
 To save T/oursel/ can you be loth to rise ? 
 In health you will not leave your easy chair ; 
 But stir you must, when dropsy finds you there. 
 Call then for book and candle ere 'tis light. 
 Stretch your whole mind in search of truth and right. 
 Lest a worse cause may rob the bed of rest. 
 And Love disturb, or Envy taint your breast. 
 If penetrating gravel tries the reins, 
 Physicians are call'd in to ease the pains; 
 And shall the mind a worse disease endure. 
 When you let years elapse, and seek no cure ? 
 Set out ! — the race defied will soon be run ! 
 The work is half accomplish'd when begun. 
 Who lets the hour of present claim pass by, 
 Waits, like the rustic, till the river's dry. 
 
DR. SNEVD DAVIES. 
 
 97 
 
 Poor senseless idiot ! the unvaried stream 
 Flows on, and will for ever flow the same. 
 
 Wealth to obtain, is Man's habitual care, 
 And then a wife, to give that wealth an heir; 
 Improving ploughshares in the waste are seen, 
 And barren heaths in fruitful tilth are green. 
 The satisfied should no increase implore, 
 Nor waste a momentary wish for more. 
 No stately equipage, or splendid plate, 
 No sumptuous house, no rental of estate, 
 E'er gave the fever'd blood a moment's rest, 
 Or pluck'd one thorn from out the master's breast. 
 Who thinks* to know the use of joy and wealth, 
 Must first be well in mind, and strong in health. 
 Who lives in fears, or longs, though rich, for more. 
 Has the same pleasure from his languid store 
 As age-dim eyes from painting can receive. 
 Or music to an ear imposthum'd give. 
 The tainted cask sours all it's to contain: 
 And pleasure is a curse that 's bought with pain. 
 The wretch that covets ever lives in want ; 
 To avarice \ deaf, the Fates no more will grant. 
 The envious are to self an abject prey, 
 And, as their neighbours thrive, they pine away, 
 
 * There is here a whimsical coincidence of the two idioms, 
 and which I never saw elsewhei'e — " cogitat uti," thinks to use. 
 
 t In our language the word avarice does not appear to be used 
 with sufficient precision. It is often confounded with a miser's 
 jealousy of his wealth, and fear to make use of it ; but this inac- 
 curacy was never so glaring as in a late publication by Helen Ma- 
 ria Williams, who is in general a very correct, and a very neat 
 writer of prose. — Twice in this work she makes avarice of blood 
 pass for wcoHomt/ in shedding it. 
 
 VOL. I. n With 
 
98 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 With pains refin'd and keen their bosoms prickt, 
 
 Beyond what fell Inquisitors inflict. 
 
 The impotent, his anger to controul, 
 
 Shall rue the sallies of the heated soul ; 
 
 Shall wish, in agony of heart, undone, 
 
 What Passion will'd in absent Reason's throne : 
 
 Anger 's a short-liv'd madness, and in sway 
 
 A despot, if no master to obey. 
 
 Keep strongly in, the hot rebellious mind. 
 
 With curb restrain'd, and with a bit confin'd. 
 
 The docile horse in prime of years is broke 
 
 To bear the rein, or stretch beneath the yoke. 
 
 The whelp that hunts the deerskin round a court. 
 
 Staunch at the field enjoys the labour'd sport. 
 
 Drink early then, dear friend, at Reason's bowl, 
 
 And fill with wholesome draughts the youthful soul. 
 
 If gall or wine the recent vessel stains, 
 
 This or that scent the faithful cask retains. 
 
 Start then in Virtue's cause with no delay : 
 If you get on but slow, I shall not stay. 
 Nor press upon you if you lead the way. 
 
 I am almost afraid of proceeding with his Imita- 
 tions, which are very numerous, and yet so excellent 
 that I am equally afraid of suppressing them. But, 
 as a compromise, I will threaten you with only two 
 more; because, though both of them are Imita- 
 tions of the same Poet, they are in a very different 
 vein, and shew the ready powers of the Artist. 
 
 Perhaps the following lines are the most grace- 
 fully polished rhymes of his Muse. — They reconcile 
 perfect elegance to familiarity— nothing is more dif- 
 iScult. 
 
 IMITATION 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 9.9- 
 
 IMITATION OF HORACE, 
 Book I. Epist. XL 
 
 Feb. 1744. 
 
 What says dear A th* to fine places seen, 
 
 Magnificent Versailles, polite Turin? 
 Is Paris quite so charming as we hear. 
 
 And not one sigh for Thames and B r f ? 
 
 With Roman glory is thy spirit fir'd ? •^ 
 Or to Geneva % studiously retir'd, > 
 With arts delighted, and with rambling tir'd ? J 
 
 " Yes," you exclaim, " that corner be my lot, 
 *' Of English friends forgetful, and forgot : 
 " Repose oblivious by the Rhone I 'II take, 
 " Or musing view the wide-expanded lake," 
 
 'Tis well, I own, to bait upon the road ; 
 But who would make an alehouse his abode ? 
 Arriv'd in town, thro' cold, and dirt, and snow, 
 Late, wet, and weary, to the bagnio go; 
 The bagnio for a night affords good cheer, 
 But not the best of lodgings l)y the year. 
 Too wise to cast upon a distant shore, 
 To sell the vessel, and return no more. 
 
 * Mt. Aldworth Neville, Father of Lord Braybrooke, then upoa 
 his travels. 
 
 t Billinghear. 
 
 \ He was then resident at Geneva ; and therCj as I learn from 
 Zord Braybrooke, with many otlier accomplished friends, he insti<- 
 tuted a theatre, in which they acted plays ; and Mr. Aldworlh be- 
 came so admired, that Garrick heard of it, and cultivated an ac- 
 quaintance with him on his return, in honour to his talent. 
 
 H 2 
 
 France, 
 
100 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 France, Italy, and Spain, and ruin'd Greece, 
 
 Are in the mind, as useful to its peace, 
 
 As in the raging dog-star warm attire, 
 
 A stream in winter, or in June a fire. 
 
 At ease, in affluence, Naples, Florence, Rome, 
 
 Are pretty things to chat about at home. 
 
 Commend the soft Monfpelier' s balmy air, 
 
 But, hale and vig'rous, why should j/ow go there ? 
 
 When Fortune hails you with auspicious wings. 
 In gratitude enjoy the boon she brings, 
 Nor put it by ; nor, if you like your meat, 
 Be nice, and scorn the room in which you eat. 
 If sense and reason can alone give ease, 
 Not airy views or prospect of the seas. 
 Travel and voyage are but loss of time. 
 The temper will not alter with the clime. 
 In idle diligence from day to night. 
 We aim at happiness with all our might ; 
 For this in Scythian cold, or Indian sun, 
 On horse, in ships, we ride, and swim, and run. 
 But well to live demands no help of sails ; 
 No matter where, — in Cumberland or Wales ,- 
 Content is captive to no certain space, 
 The man may be in fault — but not his place*. 
 
 * The mind is its own place— ^re the words of Miltoi. 
 
 To 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 lO'l 
 
 TO J. W. 
 
 IMITATION OF HORACE, 
 
 Book I. Epist. X. 
 
 [Again I beg the Reader to have the original 
 before him.] 
 
 1735. 
 
 D *, of rural scenes a lover grown, 
 
 Salutes his friend, a lover of the town : 
 Except the variance this and plumpness make, 
 Who think we disagree, perhaps mistake ; 
 The difference much the same as lies between 
 The egg of parent swan, or of a hen ; 
 Debating, scribbling, saunt'ring, sitting still, 
 Studious of ease, and brothers of the quill. 
 Lojidon 's your choice — I know it — but approve . 
 The seat of moss, the rivulet, and grove. 
 If you should ask how I employ the hour : 
 Better than some in place, and some in pow'r. 
 Not plagued with patrons here, nor slave to pelf, 
 Lord of my time, and master of myself f. 
 What have your noisy streets like this to give, 
 Or what like this Sir Robert % to receive ! 
 
 Cotla, disgrac'd, in Ariconian vales. 
 Likes, lam told, the neighbourhood of Wales : 
 Sick of parade, attendance, and resort, 
 Flies — to exhale the surfeit of a Court § . 
 
 * Davies himself; — and this one initial is the single hint that 
 he gives the Reader of his name. — So amiable was the modesty 
 of this philosophical recluse. 
 
 t There is not a verse in Dryden or in Pope to which I could 
 fear to name this for a competitor. 
 
 :j: This would have been sufficient to date the Poem at some 
 period before 1741, when that able and great Minister (with all 
 his blemishes) resigned his power, had not the date of it since 
 occurred to me, viz. 1735. 
 
 § I beg your attention to the beauty of that verse. 
 
 Consult 
 
102 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Consult the voice of Nature at her shrine : 
 " Build ill the country," says the voice divine. 
 
 Where can the winter joy so pure inspire, 
 Morn's wholesome frost, and evening's brilliant fire 
 Where has the summer's heat such cooling gales, 
 To fan the hills, and cheer the drooping dales ? 
 Where 's discontent so rare an inmate seen, 
 And slumbers liglu so innocent of spleen? 
 
 What is that marble portal to my bow'r, 
 Array'd in green, and pearl'd in ev'ry show'r ? 
 What the dull stream, that pipes or conduits yield. 
 To the soft rill that whispers in my field ? 
 
 Confess at once your wants ; for it is clear 
 In town you faintly mimick what is here ; 
 Look at St. James's, or at Luicoln-square, 
 The rustic scene's tame counterfeit is there. 
 Say why that Sheffidd* mansion pleasant stands ? 
 Because a length of country it commands. 
 
 Nature, in spite of changes and removes, 
 Iieiimis elastic to the point she loves. 
 Rais'd from distortion, she appears the same, 
 And from her bend recovers like the palm. 
 Not she, whose want of taste, or want of care, 
 Buys the resembling Delft for China ware ; 
 Nor who to City-publicans resort, 
 And buy for claret's price deceitful port, — 
 Are more the dupes of counterfeit, than who 
 Mistake false blessings for the gem that 's true. 
 
 * Buckingham-house, now the Queen's Palace, 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 103 
 
 Who launch too far in Fortune's purest lake, 
 The tempest of Adversity will shake. 
 Slow to discredit what allures the eyes, 
 We pause before we drop the tempting prize. 
 
 Come to the shade, where peace eternal springs, 
 Despise the Court with me, and pity Kings. 
 Britons, impatient of the Saxon reign, 
 Call'd-in their ^ooJ ^/(t/ suppos'd, the Dane : 
 Their good ally to conquest led the way, 
 But swept the whole dominion — for his pay *, 
 The wanton stranger, in his new abode. 
 Upon the neck of high-born vassals rode. 
 
 Thus for the golden fleece \^ you shall trade, 
 And sell your mind, of pinching want afraid, 
 That hideous monster is expell'd, I own ; 
 But a most lordly tyrant mounts his throne. 
 If, by dependance, treasure you obtain, 
 I wish you well — but leave you to your chain. 
 It's known that shoes, and why not an estate ? 
 Pinch or slip off, too little or too great. 
 
 Be wise, and be content : though short in wealth. 
 Rich in the gifts of competence and health, 
 Don't throw away the happiness they bring, 
 For virtuous freedom is a sacred thing f. 
 And when you see me lay my honour down. 
 When you detect me fawning in the town, 
 Give indignation the uncheck'd career, 
 Don't spare the satire — pr'y thee be severe I 
 
 * Is not this a little applicable to Napoleon's fraternal embrace 
 of Holland, Italy, and -Spain ? 
 
 t Here again is a verse to be remembered. 
 
 These 
 
104 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 These high-spirited verses, and the Poet is full 
 of them, convince me that avarice never at any one 
 moment invaded or touched the purity of his mind, 
 — and that he had shaken off the influence of a no- 
 bler appetite, that of ambition itself. But I think 
 it is impossible to dispute the existence of pique in 
 his mind, at the obscurity into which the nature of 
 his course in the world had thrown him, operating, 
 not in the malevolent asperity of cynic spleen, but 
 in a virtuous pride, at the neglect he had experienced, 
 as he thought, and felt, from the world. 
 
 Upon this awful theme of moralizing reflection 
 upon the miscalculated view of his nature and fortune, 
 which threw, but in a very gentle degree, a shade 
 over his happiness, I cannot forbear to copy the 
 temperate, judicious, and philosophical remarks of 
 Lady Knowles. They confer honour upon her 
 taste, and upon that language of' the heat^f, Which 
 is of eloquence the best. 
 
 # * * " I regret much any little blemish in Mr. 
 " Davies's judgment or feelings. — I had almost 
 *' thought him an absolute model of perfection in 
 " his profession's elevated sphere (for such in its 
 " essence it really is) — blessed with tenderness of 
 "heart, — noble, independent, and great in himself, 
 " above the levities or temptations of the world. 
 
 " I never can so degrade the image I had formed 
 " of him, as to think he was ambitious of profes- 
 " sional advancement, or suffered any disappoint- 
 " ment to embitter him. — But a portion of our en- 
 " thusiasm for it we must and we may resign — we 
 " can afford it, and still admire him enough. — We 
 " moralize, however, upon these frailties of the hu- 
 " man character. 
 
 " The science of life surely is the most abstruse of 
 " any. — Else how comes it that such highly-culti- 
 vated minds, and such commanding spirits, fail in 
 " unity of action, or in a just conception of its parts. 
 
 " Johnson 
 
DR. SNEYTD DAVIES. 
 
 105 
 
 " Johnson had naturally a morose temper, besides a 
 " morbid and a distempered habit. Davies had the 
 " temper of a Saint. 
 
 " But is there not in the minds of the gifted few, 
 " a certain Jiert^, which induces them to act as upon 
 " the defensive against inferiors, who are children of 
 " this world, and wiser than children of light. — I 
 " often have observed a refined and a delicate state 
 " of the feelings, too keenly alive, in the nicety of 
 " theirdistinctions, tothe casualandtheunintentional 
 " neglects of the world. — I attribute, therefore, Mr. 
 " Daviess false estimate of the public sphere, and of 
 " his own, to this or a similar cause, which a retired 
 " andsecluded habit of solitude, or partial intercourse, 
 " would rather encourage than stifle — in a brilliant 
 " vein of moralizing satire." 
 
 I can add, that wherever I can reach a vestige of 
 him, in the few who can speak of him, from the 
 written opinion of others, or traditions concerning 
 him, the picture is that of unqualified praise and 
 love. 
 
 As far too as I can learn, he was cheerful and so- 
 cial, but with a temperate and gentle enjoyment of 
 Attic mirth and wit. — Of ill-nature no syllable in 
 him is the mark. 
 
 The Epithalamium, to which I alluded, is before 
 me, and says, or seems to say, " let me in." It is, 
 I own, a favourite of mine, and in a very diflTerent 
 strain from all the rest of his works. — It has all that 
 couleur derose, which is adapted with taste of choice, 
 but with a familiar and graceful air, to the nuptial 
 bower. 
 
 It is also in blank verse; but I am not sure if I 
 should not have preferred it in rhyme, though he 
 has caught the mantle of Comi(s's Poet. 
 
 E PITH A- 
 
106 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 EPITIIALAMIUM. 
 
 Ye Nymphs, that, from Diana's sport retir'd. 
 Your forest leave awhile, and love to haunt 
 The bord'ring valley, saw ye, as ye pass'd, 
 A chosen pair, the glory of your plains, 
 Array'd in youthful bloom of Nature's prime ? 
 Saw ye that glance of beauty, when the fair 
 Quiver'd with charms, and by the Graces dressM, 
 March'd on : with joy her bridegroom flush' d, beyond 
 What fancy unpossess'd can ever dream ? 
 
 Heard ye the music of their groves around. 
 Warbling, as choirs of gratulation sprung 
 From ev'ry bough ? The nightingale was there, 
 Whose note peculiar trill'd the nuptial song. 
 Such as in Windsor's music-loving shade 
 They chaunt; and, if their Handel's* ear is true. 
 No where in silence steal with lay so sweet. 
 Auspicious omens brood in the fair hour; 
 Did ever Hi/men's cheek more fresh appear, 
 Or his bright vest with deeper yellow glow ? 
 The vest that on occasions high and rare 
 Pontifical he wears f, when hearts with hands 
 Combine, of healthy cheek and sparkling eye, 
 
 * This alluiies with graceful and charming address to the cir- 
 cumstance that both of the nuptial parties lived in the perambu- 
 lation of Windsor Forest, where, Handel said, the nightingale 
 had a more harmonious note than he ever heard it else« here. — 
 This note, as well as many others, I owe to Lord Braybrooke. 
 
 t This co})ied image, from Shakespeare's fancy, in a perfectly 
 Bcw a])plicalion, acquii cs a character of its own, equally original. 
 
 As 
 
DR. SNEYD DA VIES. I07 
 
 As ill the rights of Nature, ere the shafts 
 
 By gold were blunted. — Here the blazing torch, 
 
 Faiin'd by Love's pinion, sheds unusual fire! 
 
 Lo ! by the trail of light he left behind, 
 
 As homeward the gay jubilee return'd, 
 
 The Muse, invited guest, attends her theme 
 
 On to the nuptial bow'r; there eni'ring, hail'd 
 
 Preludes of happiness to come ; her lyre 
 
 She strung — it was the heart's unborrow'd strain. 
 
 " Hail," she began, " distinguish'd pair! how fit 
 To join in wedded love! each other's choice! 
 Bridegroom, thy taste is elegant indeed, 
 And fingers nice, that on a sunny bank 
 In Beauty's garden, cull'd so bright a flow'r, 
 To thine transplanted from her native soil. 
 Cherish, be sure, thy blooming charge ; keep oflF 
 Each blush unkind ; and zephyr's gale alone 
 Blow there, and genial suns for ever smile. 
 Who not applauds thy vow ? — hereafter who 
 Disputes thy palate, judging and exact, 
 Owner of curious bliss? Nor thou, fair bride, 
 Repine, or homeward cast thy wav'ring eye! 
 'Twas time to sever from the virgin choir. 
 What joy in loneliness to waste the hours 
 Unfruitful ! See, hard by, Lodona's stream 
 Cold and inactive creep along, her face 
 Shaded with pensive willow, till anon. 
 Married to jovial Thames, briskly she moves 
 O'er many a laughing mead. — 'Twas Nature will'd 
 Such union — blest society, where souls 
 Move, as in dance, to harmony divine, 
 Fit partners. — How unlike the noisy feuds 
 In wedded strife ! Hence Friendship's gen'rous care, 
 
 At 
 
108 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 At Love's high noon, and hence the sober flame, 
 Steady as life declines : all comforts hence 
 Of child and parent, Love's endearing ties. 
 Think not the fair original design'd 
 To flourish, and be lost. — The world expects 
 A copy to adorn a future age. 
 
 Thank the kind Gods ! — be happy, live, and love !" 
 
 [The date of this Poem was Sept. 24, 1739. 
 
 Mr. Dodd married his neighbour Miss St. Leger, 
 of Trunkwell, distant three miles from Swallow- 
 Jield, his country seat. 
 
 The parishes of Shenfield (of which Trunkwell 
 is a part) and of SwaUonJield join. 
 
 Truyihwell is one of a thousand entertaining proofs 
 that John Bull is never to be entrusted with a hard 
 name. 
 
 Mr. St. Leger, the father, one of the refugees 
 after the Edict of Nantes had been (so infamously) 
 revoked, called this pla(*e Tranquille. 
 
 This gentleman was Father also to Mrs. Blossett, 
 who was mother to the late 7>/m.s Blossett, the justly 
 admired singer (as an amateur), and to Mrs. De 
 Sails, now living, the widow of Dr. De Salts, one 
 of my Eton schoolfellows.^ 
 
 So virgin-like was the modesty and blush of his 
 Muse, that he is afraid he shall be accused of indeli- 
 cacy in some of those lines, which he declares that 
 he did not intend. — The simplicity of his alarm is 
 ludicrous. 
 
 " You mentioned the Epithalamium favourably, 
 " but you intimated some lines in it which juade 
 " you smile. 
 
 " After this hint, I perused it, and find what I 
 " never intended, that an indelicate cowiiruci\on, or, 
 
 to use prettier words, a double entendre might be 
 " put upon the metaphor that I carried on upon the 
 
 " garden- 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 109 
 
 *' garden-flower. — It is also true that a hint is given, 
 " perhaps too broad a one. I was aware of it, but 
 " considered that I was writing to a young and 
 " merry couple." 
 
 [It reminds me of a ludicrous account which Mr. 
 Bri/ant gave to me of Dr. George, who, when 
 Master, from an outrage and refinement of prudery, 
 was in the habit of putting into the heads of the 
 boys indecent allusions, which, but for the horror 
 wfiich he expressed when they construed the passage, 
 they would never have dreamt of endeavouring to 
 discover. One in particular was in Theocritus. As 
 that Author is not before me, and as I am not sure 
 of all the words, I will give the Latin. 
 
 Utinam devenerim apis murmurans, 
 Et ad tuum antrum profectus fuerim 
 [Hederam — ] 
 
 Penetrans, et involucrum quo tu tegeris,] 
 
 Lucina heard the Muse, perhaps in hopes of a 
 serenade ; and here it is, not only ingenious, but, 
 like all his works, of a cast original and peculiar to 
 himself. 
 
 ON THE BIRTH OF A SON. 
 
 Oct. 22, 1741. 
 Thy sanguine hope completed in a boy, 
 Hymen's dear boon, my friend, I give thee joy. 
 Of strange, fine things, and miracles to be, 
 "Expect no flatt'ring prophecies from me : 
 It 's Time's maturing business to call forth 
 Degen'rate meanness, or transmitted worth. 
 Under that sHding course of hours or days, 
 The limner's effort mellows, or decays. 
 First, let me see, what my fond wish bespoke, 
 The lively colouring, the manly stroke, 
 
 The 
 
110 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE, 
 
 The gentle sweetness, and the modest grace — 
 
 Maternal beauty — shed upon the face ? 
 
 The gay and frank benevolence, the fire 
 
 Sincere and gen'rous, darted from the Sire. 
 
 The judging Muse, where lines like these can strike, 
 
 Will own the copied portrait 's verx) like ; 
 
 Will mark each virtue, each perfection tell, 
 
 Pleas'd that his parents drew themselves so well. 
 
 At every turn we discern the same dignified grace 
 and manliness of spirit — no base homage to the rich 
 and great. The panegyric springs from the heart, 
 and the heroes of it personal friends — unsolicited for 
 patronage — nay, of minds unlike his own, though 
 with points in them that pleased him ; and one of 
 them never deserted, who had not even a virtue in 
 his favour, and was thrown, by degrading indiscre- 
 tions, to say no worse of them, into poverty. What 
 can be a higher panegyric upon this affectionate spi- 
 rit, than to attest, record, and perpetuate, the fact ? 
 that nothing but the distress of this mendicant could 
 ever seduce the modesty of his Muse from its home, 
 and then, upon conditions that veil'd her from the 
 world, suppressing, by obstinate initials, 
 
 The local habitation, or the name. 
 
 By the next Poem I should think it not improba- 
 ble that he was acquainted in early days with Horace 
 Walpole; for it alludes to his birth, and that Mr. 
 Dodd the same day. This Poem has the additional 
 recommendation of shewing that he had great talent 
 in the discriminating analysis of character. 
 
 The two friends, as Lord Brayhrooke first in- 
 formed me, were the Hon. Horace Walpole, and 
 John Dodd, Esq. 
 
 ox 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 Ill 
 
 ON TWO FRIENDS, BORN THE SAME DAY. 
 
 Sept. 1736. 
 
 There are. it seems, who think a natal star 
 Softens to peace, or animates to war ; 
 That yon bright orbs, as in their course they roll, 
 Dart their strong influence on the dawning soul : 
 Whether to empire led by radiant Jove^ 
 Or luU'd in pleasure by the Queen of Love ; 
 Whether Mercurius gently wav'd his hand, 
 That points to arts and sciences the wand ; 
 Or angry 3fars, inspiring warlike heat. 
 Alarm the pulse, and at the bosom beat. 
 
 If so, in these, of uncongenial mind, 
 Whence can the Muse her pointed contrast find ? 
 The one, of nature easy, andcompos'd, 
 Untost by passions, and in arts repos'd * ; 
 The other, of a keen impatient soul, 
 Wing'd in the race, and stretching to the goal* : 
 One calm as Theodosius to desire; 
 The other glowing with Varanes' fire : 
 This pleas'd to wander in Pierian glades. 
 Where the rill murmurs, and the laurel shades * ; 
 The other warm'd in what his heart approves. 
 The chace, the mistress, or the friend he loves. 
 
 Yet the same beam saluted them on earth, 
 And the same planets glitter'd at their birth ; 
 The same soft gale had whisper'd in the wood. 
 Or the same tempest arm'd the raging flood. 
 
 * Can these lines be forgotten ? — Where is Pope superior to 
 them ? 
 
 It 
 
112 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 It is enough, no question of their stars. 
 That Friendship reconciles where Nature ^diXs. 
 Nativities ! resign your dreaming plea ! 
 T\\e'u planets differ, but their lives agree. 
 
 Upon this elegant and poetical jew d'esprii I can- 
 not forbear to solicit your acceptance of two com- 
 ments. 
 
 It may seem to militate on my character of Da- 
 vies in the sacred article of independent sincerity ; 
 for I may be asked, how sincerity could account for 
 this panegyric upon a man who made no figure in 
 the world, who had no genius, or literature. I an- 
 swer by the fact, as it has reached me from the best 
 authority. 3Ir. Dodd, as I have before observed, 
 had a generous heart, and zeal for his friends, with 
 a delight in those who, in their talents and attain- 
 ments, were as unlike him as JValpole could have 
 been ; Davies, for example, and Lord Camden. — 
 He loved their genius, and was proud of it. — He 
 had also, I have no doubt, social talents, which re- 
 quire no Attic wit, but have a peculiar humour of 
 their own. In a poetical dialogue, full of pleasant 
 ridicule upon fVhaley, and published in your ad- 
 mirable Collection of Poems, there is a festive and 
 jovial spirit given to Mr. Dodd, which, I dare say, 
 made him very entertaining as a companion. 
 
 But, in the next place, nothing is more common 
 than to see what the Poet so well expresses here, 
 the union which Friendship can form of dissimilar 
 characters. We are all of us vain, the least of the 
 little, as well as those at the top of the leaf ; and 
 we do not like partners upon, our throne. Either 
 inferiorities are cultivated, or equalities in a different 
 sphere — besides that in society one loves the amia- 
 ble varieties which two friends produce, who have 
 attainments and merits of a different kind. 
 
 By 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 113 
 
 By the way, as that Poem is before me, though it 
 is too long to be inserted here, and perhaps a httle too 
 burlesque to suit the Attic though brilHant wit of the 
 rider, I cannot forbear to catch a passage or two, as 
 proving his talent for parody, which he does not ap- 
 pear to have indulged, but certainly possessed. 
 
 The opening of this Dialogue upon the subject of 
 Mr. Whaleys cowardice in a fox-chace is incompa- 
 rable, as a banter upon Dryden or Lee. 
 
 Dr. Tlwihy. 
 There 's pleasure sure in being clad in green, 
 Whicli none but green-men know. 
 
 The passage in view, if I am correct in it, is this: 
 There is a pleasure sure in being mad, 
 Which none but madmen know. 
 
 Whaley solus. 
 
 but chief, of thee *, 
 
 Of thee I most complain, O want of meal. 
 
 ******* 
 Must I then leave thee, Burgundy f, &c. &c. 
 
 No more I'll to the window — beauteous scene 
 
 Of river and of hills, of lawns and trees, 
 What respite can ye give to my distress ! 
 And you, plump deer, that feed upon the lawn, 
 Serve to awake the ven'son appetite. 
 
 Davies. 
 
 Am I deceiv'd, or through the waving boughs 
 An alehouse-sign peeps forth. I 'm not deceiv'd ,' 
 For through the boughs an alehouse-sign peeps forth. 
 W ould I were there ! 
 
 * Sampson. 
 
 t " Must I then leave thee. Paradise," S^c. 
 
 I This 
 
114 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 This imitation of the attendant Spirit in Comus 
 deserves to be noted. 
 
 Was I deceiv'd, or does a sable cloud 
 Turn forth her silver lining on the night ? 
 I did not err, there does a sable cloud 
 Turn forth her silver lining on the night. 
 
 We have alluded to, and shall in the Appendix 
 produce, one of Mr. Davies's travelling correspond- 
 ents. Let us now produce Mr, Davies himself as a 
 Tourist. 
 
 We have read Musical travels, Astronomical and 
 Botanical ones, Antiquarian, Political, Historical, 
 and Sentimental. The all-accomplished Addison 
 and Eustace (I wish we had more of them) were 
 C/aw/ca/ Topographers. Davies, in his few rambles 
 from home, viewed every scene with a Poets eye, 
 nor has even his Muse produced any thing more 
 gifted than two Poems which are now to be introduced, 
 both of tliem in rhyme ; one upon a voyage to the 
 Ruins of Tintern Abbey ; the other upon Archbi- 
 shop IVillianis's Tomb. They are of the same aera, 
 between 1 73 2 and 1745. 
 
 I am bold enough to anticipate the Reader's de- 
 light in them, who will not fail to observe the differ- 
 ence of the tone (if I may use that phrase for want 
 of a better) between the picturesque and the mo- 
 ralizing Poet. 
 
 A Voyage to Tintern Abbey in Monmouthshire, from 
 Whitminster * in Gloucestershire. 
 
 Jug. 1742. 
 
 From vi\\exe the Stroud, smooth stream, serenely glides. 
 We reach the peopled Severn's rapid tides. 
 
 * Where, at his countrv' seat near Stroud, he had visited Mr. 
 Cambridge. 
 
 Stop 
 
1)R. SNEYD DAVIES. llf) 
 
 Stop ere we sail ! and from this point survey 
 The hill-encompass'd sea-resembling bay; 
 See the tide's * ridge with sober grandeur heave, 
 And float in triumph o'er the river wave ! 
 Lo ! where it comes ! with what extensive sweep, 
 Like a whale sideling rolling in the deep ! 
 Wide and more wide it joins the distant hills, 
 And swiftly the expanded area fills. 
 
 We sail ; — now steadily ; now gulphs inform 
 The tumbling waves to imitate a storm ; 
 The rising shores a thousand charms bestow, 
 Lawn at their feet, and forest at their brow ; 
 The polish'd villas, neighbours to the flood ; 
 The taper spire ; and the surrounding wood. 
 
 These lines, my C- 1 read, and smiling view 
 
 How faint the hope thy landscape to renew. 
 That image of thyself how soon decay'd — 
 See all its beauties in description fade! 
 
 Where to each other the tall banks incline, 
 And distant cliff's, though sever'd, seem to join, 
 
 * This coming-in of the tide is called the Eager. There Is a 
 beautiful allusion to it in Sprat's History of the Royal Society. 
 
 Davies. 
 
 f This was the late Mr. Cambridge, another friend of Mk. 
 Davies, and, as I can proudly add, of my own. He then lived 
 at Whitminster. — Amongst the verses addressed to Mr. Cam- 
 bridge, and published by his son amongst his works, there is 
 an allusion to Davies by name, which, for the honour of them 
 both, I shall insert. They are dated in 1739, and are the lines of 
 Henry Berkeley, Esq. 
 
 " Ask verse of him who knows to sing ; 
 
 His well-tuned lyre bid Davies* bring. 
 
 And boldly strike the docile string : 
 
 * A friend of the Aulhot's, and of Mr. Cambridge, who was a yery tie- 
 fant Poet. Editor. 
 
 I 2 Drawn 
 
116 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 A narrow frith — our gallant Argons way, 
 A door that opens to the boundless sea — 
 What if a shin with strutting sail come on, 
 Her wanton streamers waving in the sun ! 
 Just in the midst, as Fancy would contrive. 
 See the proud vessel o'er the billows drive. 
 
 The Streight is pass'd, the swelling surges beat, 
 The prospects widen, and the shores retreat. 
 Ye Nereids hail ! for now we leave behind 
 The town and palaces with tide and wind, 
 Here noble Stafford's * yet unfinish'd dome, 
 And thence the long-stretch'd race of Berkelei/ i come; 
 Till, tossing and full-feasted, more than lir'd, 
 We change the wilder scene for paths retir'd. 
 Quit the rough element of noise and strife. 
 As from a public to domestic life, 
 Skirt the mild coast, and up the channel ride. 
 Where Faga | mingles with Sabrind's | tide. 
 
 From the same hill the sister streams their source 
 Deriving, took, when young, a parted course, 
 
 Drawn § by the pow'r of that sweet sound. 
 
 The list'ning herd shall gaze around. 
 
 Whilst from the deep and oozy bed 
 
 Sabrina rears her avveful head. 
 
 And, as his notes harmonious glide. 
 
 Forgets to l oll her ample tide. 
 
 Ah, Cambridge ! may the chattering pie 
 
 With Philomela's music vie. 
 
 Then shall be heard my Clio's tongue, 
 
 Where you and Davies deign a song. 
 * The remains of a noble seat, begun by Stafford Duke oj 
 Buckingham. 
 
 t Berkeley Castle. 
 I The Jf'ye and the Sevein. 
 
 * Immemor herbarum quos est rairata juvenca, 
 £t mutata suos requierunt flumina cursus. 
 
 . Eel S. 
 And 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 1 
 
 And many cities, many a region seen, 
 
 High tow'rs, and walls antique, and margins green, 
 
 Now gladly meet, nor now to part again, 
 
 Go hand in hand, and slide into the main. 
 
 In spite of Tivie, though wars and tempests beat, 
 Ascending Chepstow shews a castled seat ; 
 Beneath slope hills, and by the rolling flood, 
 Clasp'd in a theatre of rising wood. 
 With air majestic to the eye stands forth, 
 Tow'ring, and conscious of its pristine worth. 
 Sublime in its decay, in age's pride 
 Erect, it overlooks and braves the tide. 
 
 Pass a few moments ! — the returning sea 
 Shall those high-stranded vessels sweep away ; 
 That bridge, from whence the eye descends with fear, 
 Low with its floo.l, and level shall appear. 
 
 The giddy bank still winds to something new; 
 Each turning oar diversifies the view ; 
 Of trees and stones the interrupted scene, 
 The shady rocks and precipices green ; 
 Or where the forms of Nature, to surprize. 
 Curve into bastions, or in columns rise ; 
 Here sinking spaces with dark brows o'ergrown, 
 And there the naked quarries look a town : 
 At length our pilgrimage's home appears. 
 Her venerable fabric Tintern rears ; 
 While the sun, glancing in its calm decline. 
 With his last gilding beautifies her shrine ; 
 Enter with reverence the hallow'd gate. 
 And trace the aweful relicks of her state ; 
 The meeting arches — pillar'd walks admire; 
 Or musing listen to the fancied choir; 
 
 Encirclin 
 
118 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Encircling groves diffuse their solemn grace. 
 And dimly fill the op'ning window's place, 
 While pitting shrubs, on the bare summits, try- 
 To give the roofless pile a canopy. 
 
 Here, my lov'd friend, along the mossy dome. 
 In pleasurable sadness let me roam ; 
 Look back upon the world, in haven safe ; 
 Weep o'er its ruins, at its follies laugh. 
 
 It may seem an impertinence to comment upon 
 this Poem ; but I cannot forbear to recommend the 
 appropriate features of the scene in this hving me- 
 moir avid portrait — the happiness of the expressions, 
 and the chaste abstinence from all those vapid su- 
 perfluities which the taste of modern poetry seems 
 to court. The picture of Chepstow Castle and of 
 its bridge — the wish for the ship and its arrival — the 
 comparison of the sea to public life — and last, not 
 least in love, the solemn cast of the concluding lines, 
 which are like the scene they describe, appear to me 
 the gifts of genius in poetical description, if I at least 
 can even guess what those gifts are. 
 
 But how difTerent is the pencil in the Poem that 
 follows. — In painting, the artist who has a manner, 
 too generally adopted in all his works, bears the 
 title of a ?nannerist. Horace, with infinite huinour, 
 to n)ake this degrading vanity more ludicrous, tells 
 a painter that " perhaps he can paint a cypress" 
 — " And what has the cypress to do," says the Poet, 
 " if you are to paint a shipwreck r" Even a good 
 manner may be tiresome if it is not varied, especially 
 when the subject requires the diflference. 
 
 This remark applies with powerful analogy to 
 writers in prose and in verse, but in a peculiar 
 
 degree 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 degree to the latter. It is very seldom that one finds 
 a diversity of manner in the same Poet. If it is 
 not profane, I would say that Pope, charming and 
 brilliant as he is, wants light and shade in the ca- 
 dence of his measure, and in the turn of his thoughts. 
 Prior, a very inferior, but still a most engaging and 
 fertile Poet, is in variety more distinguished. The 
 Muse of Dryden is in this view of it pre-eminent. 
 Young has written with a masterly hand in blank 
 verse and in rhyme : a solemn strain in the first ; 
 and pointed wit in the latter — brilliant epigrams and 
 satire. Thomson is decidedly a mannerist. Gray, 
 though his forte is Lyric, is enchanting in the Ele- 
 giac strain. 
 
 Davies, if I can presume to introduce him in the 
 company of these Luminaries, cannot be accused of 
 sameness in the character of his Muse. — What I 
 have produced in blank verse of a sententious and 
 moralizing cast is very unlike his Imitations of Ho- 
 race — the i^ers cle socidti — his graceful compliments 
 — and his fancy in description. 
 
 But, if I were to chuse, I would select as the fa- 
 vourites those of a moral cast, whether in blank 
 verse or in rhyme ; and what follows would, I think, 
 of itself stamp the character of a Poet upon the 
 modest Rector of Kingsland. 
 
 It is whimsical enough, but it is the fact, that, 
 after his friend the Bishop of Litchfield bestowed 
 preferment upon him there, we have no further 
 trace of his Muse; and all that he has left (except 
 the Alcaic Ode, which has no date) was prior to 
 174.^, though it cannot be supposed that he laid 
 aside his poetical habits ; and in a Poem written by 
 Mr. Seward, his brother Canon, father to the mas- 
 cula Sappho *, he is represented as enlivening the 
 Litc/rfield sett by the powers of his Muse. 
 
 The lines are these : 
 
 Davies shall bring a concert of tlie Nine, 
 And treat with genuine Heliconian wine. 
 
 Horace- 
 
 In 
 
120 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 In 1745' he was not more than thirty-five years of 
 age, when, as it should seem, his vein disappeared, 
 though his hfe reached tifty-nine. 
 
 But I have scarce a doubt that his rooted and con- 
 stitutional diffidence induced him, in these later pe- 
 riods of his life, to be more nice in his judgment of 
 his own works, and rather to play with his Muse, 
 than to aim at the improvement of its powers ; more 
 especially if the weakness of his frame and consti- 
 tution made him struggle with his energies, to use 
 the excellent phrase of Miss Seward. — Perhaps the 
 religious duties of his pure and sainted life may 
 have infused a more serious turn of thought. — Ano- 
 ther key, however, to this blank of intelligence may 
 be found in the devolution of all his Manuscripts 
 upon the Rector who succeeded him, and who had 
 no turn for literature, so that perhaps many of the 
 later works may have been destroyed, and what re- 
 mains (which, but for Lady Knowles, would soon 
 have been consumed) may have been saved more 
 by accident than design. 
 
 At seeing Archbishop Williams's * Monument 
 in Carnarvonshire. 
 
 1737. 
 
 In that remote and solitary place, 
 Which the seas wash, and circling hills embrace, 
 Where those lone walls amid their groves arise, 
 All that remains of thee, fam'd Williams, lies. 
 Thither, sequester'd shade, Creation's nook, 
 The wand'ring Muse her pensive journey took; 
 She came to mark the wand'ring Statesman's home. 
 And moralize at leisure on his tomb. 
 
 * Dr. John Williams was consecrated Bishop of Lincoln, Nov. 
 11, 1621, was translated to York, Dec. 4, 1641 ; died March 25, 
 1649, and was buried at Llan Deala, near Bangor. 
 
 She 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 121 
 
 Siie came, not like a Pilgrim, tears to shed, 
 Mutter a vow, or trifle with a bead ; 
 But such a sadness could her thoughts employ, 
 As in the neighbourhood of sober joy, 
 Reflecting much upon the mighty shade, 
 His glories baffled, and his wreaths decay'd. 
 
 " How poor the lot of the once honour'd dead ! 
 Perhaps the dust is Williams, that we tread. 
 The learn'd, ambitious, politick, and great, 
 Statesman or Prelate, this, alas, thy fate ! 
 Could not thy Lincoln yield her Pastor room ? 
 Could not thy York supply thee with a tomb ? 
 Was it for this, a lofty genius soar'd, 
 Caress'd by monarchs, and by crowds ador'd ? 
 For this thy hand o'er rivals could prevail, 
 Grasping by turns the crosier and the seal *? 
 Who dar'd on Laiicfs meridian lustre frown. 
 And on aspiring Buckingham look down ? 
 How gay the morn ! — But, ere the day decline. 
 Clouds gather, and adversity is thine. 
 Though 'twas thy doom to see the fierce alarms, 
 What had thy tott'ring age to do with arms ? 
 Thy lands dragoon'd, thy palaces in dust. 
 And life suspended only to be curs'd ; 
 Thy king in chains, thyself, by lawless might, 
 Stripp'd of all rank, supremacy, and right." 
 
 Awhile the venerable hero stood, 
 And stemm'd with shaking limbs the boist'rous flood : 
 At length, o'ermatch'd by injuries of Time, 
 Stole from the world, and sought his native clime. 
 
 * He was made Lord Keeper of the Great Seal, July "20, 1751. 
 
 Cambria y 
 
122 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Cambria, for kirn, with moans the region fills : 
 She wept his downfall from a thousand hills. 
 Caught, as he fell, her Prelate, thougli undone, 
 Streich'd out the rocks and caves to hide her son ; 
 Search'd, when alive, each vale for his repast, 
 And when he died, receiv'd him in her breast. 
 
 Ambition! what are all thy tow'ring schemes, 
 But waking terrors, or ensnaring dreams! 
 For ever tott'ring on the heights of state, 
 This monody can stamp thy hero's fate. 
 Great in his projects he has this to gain, 
 A tomb thus homely, and a bard so mean. 
 
 Cicero himself, whose mind had no frivolous 
 taste, condescends to vindicate us Antiquaries ; for 
 he tells, that we are prompted by a just, as well as 
 natural enthusiasm, for men of genius and virtue in 
 all ages to visit, and consecrate every scene which 
 they iniiabited. Pope is in the same tone of local 
 superstition, when he tells us, " where St. John 
 sat — and thought,'"'' — unfortunate in his hero, but 
 happy and sublime in the picture — for he says, the 
 oak of Marius, proof against the axe, or the inju- 
 ries, will for ever live, because it was planted by 
 Genius. 
 
 That pleasant Wit (Poet indeed in his way) Sir 
 C. Hanhury IVilliams, kept his hat off in the boat 
 with a party as they rowed him by the side of Popes 
 grotto several years after his death : " I am afraid 
 (said he) of that Guvpowder Percy, though he be 
 dead." — I have copied in the Appendix Mr. Phelps 
 upon Horace's villa, and we have all admired Eustace 
 upon that subject. 
 
 I would therefore make a point with j'our friend- 
 ship, if you were a little younger, and if it could 
 
 be 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 123 
 
 be summer at a word from us, to visit Kingsland, 
 for my sake, in honour to its Rector: though, if 
 my uncle was not more peevish than just, it is in 
 itself " a ivretdied place,'' for those are his words. 
 
 On the same principle one likes the memory of 
 such men upon iheir tomb, and I admire extremely 
 the W'>rk of Mr. Godwin upon that subject (O si 
 sic omnia !) in one of the best written essays i ever 
 saw. 
 
 This amiable superstition made the burial-place 
 of Archbishop fVilUams interesting. 
 
 It is carried a little too far by Mr. Malone, when 
 he tells us where Drifden lived in Gerard-street ; 
 but I recollect that my neighbour Mr. tValpole had 
 a picture of the identical street in which McCme de 
 Sdvigiid lived, and in which the painter has given 
 us the very house. I presented Mr. PValpole with 
 some beautiful drawings of the chateau de Grignan, 
 which I visited myself in honour to that most 
 charming woman. A similar passion makes Vau- 
 cluse the rage of modern travellers, more than even 
 the scenery would, sublime as it is. 
 
 Another whim of curiosity is, to develope the 
 character from the Infant upwards to the Man ; 
 and we are told with rapture of Dr. Johnson's verses 
 upon the duck. 
 
 In truth, however, nothing is more capricious 
 than times and seasons of talent in the age of man — 
 besides that many a genius when a boy has made 
 no figure as a man ; but least of all pro})hetic is the 
 talent of making verse, Latin or English, at school. 
 I cannot agree with Dr. Johnson that Milton's La- 
 tin verses are inferior to those of other English 
 Poets ; but I lay no stress upon them as promising 
 the genius which at a later period inspired him. 
 And we shall hear no more of youth as the period 
 indispensable to sublimity of inspiration, when it is 
 recollected that " Paradise Lost ' was written by a 
 man who was blind at the age of 41. 
 
 Yet 
 
124 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Yet one likes to read these early indications of 
 talent, and may indulge the whim of discovering in 
 the first hints of the future Poet what he was likely 
 to be. 
 
 This long digression terminates in Davies, re- 
 sumed, but carried back to Eton school, 1 have 
 caught some of his Latin verse in that seat of the 
 Muses; but there is one Poem in English, which 
 is quite the verse of a boy in general (and therefore 
 I do not copy it), but has passages which are stamps 
 of the manly character that formed a ruling feature 
 of his poetical mind, and shewed hun very unlike 
 
 the " ELEGANT AND THE GENTLE DaVIES" of his 
 
 panegyrical defamer Miss Seward. 
 
 He was to write upon Henry the Sixth, Founder 
 of Eton College. In general he has marked a pe- 
 culiar judgment in the selection of iiis topics for 
 that poor creature of a King. But I must quote the 
 following lines, which few Poets have surpassed in 
 dignity or spirit in the meridian of their genius 
 and fame. 
 
 " No papal legends, consecrated lies, 
 
 Shall o'er ihi/ merit cast their spurious dies ; 
 Dull monkish miracles, and clumsy paint, 
 That wrong the ma)i, to canonize the saint." 
 
 There is another passage equally beautiful and 
 chaste — nor have I ever seen the architecture of 
 King's College Chapel so honoured in verse. 
 
 " Thy works, beyond the reach of art, proclaim, 
 " In living characters, the Author's fame, 
 " Fit for their great InhabitanCs abode, 
 
 In axeefulheiglit, and worthy of a God*. 
 
 * There is here a veiy curious coincidence, and it is noted br 
 Davies himself in his own hand, viz. that he wrote this Poem 
 before Mr.Fope wrote the following line: 
 
 Bid Temples worthy of the God ascend ! 
 
 " No 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 125 
 
 '* No cumbrous Gothic, of enormous size, 
 *' Heaves into air, and swells the aching eyes : 
 " In graceful symmetrj? the piles advance, 
 " With chaste reserve, and simple elegance, 
 " Here softened stones the downy rose express, 
 " And figur'd glass can Raphael's touch express; 
 " Contending arts their magic have display'd, 
 " Self-baianc'd * hangs the roof, and scorns the pillar's 
 " aid." 
 
 I often have thought Horace of all the Roman 
 Poets could fall the best into English verse, and 
 without any modern infusion. But I do not recol- 
 lect that I ever saw this proposition better exempli- 
 fied than by Mr. Davies, in a version, as it could 
 well be called, but which he entitles, an Imitation 
 of Book II. Ode 4. 
 
 Ne sit anciliae tibi amor pudori. 
 
 It is almost literal, except in a beautiful turn at the 
 end of it in honour to Fielding and Shirley, two 
 celebrated beauties of that period. 
 
 This too must have been written in 1732 at the 
 latest, for that is the date of the book in which it 
 appears, and he was then two and twenfi/. I am 
 pleased with it also, because it is the only English 
 Lyric of his pen which I have reached. 
 
 Don't blush, dear Sir, your flame to own, 
 
 Yovr sable mistress to approve. 
 Thy passion other breasts have known. 
 
 And heroes justify your love. 
 
 * This, which is the fact, produces in the verse a sublime 
 effect. 
 
 By 
 
26 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 By ^Ethiopian beauties mov'd, 
 Perseus was clad in martial arms ; 
 
 And the world's lord too feeble prov'd 
 For Cleopatra's jetty charms. 
 
 What if no sickly white and red, 
 
 With short-liv'd glow, adorn the maid, 
 
 The deeper yew its leaves ne'er shed, 
 When roses and when lilies fade. 
 
 What if no conscious blush appear. 
 The tincture of a guilty skin, 
 
 Here is a colour sure to wear. 
 And black will never harbour sin. 
 
 Think'st thou such blood in slaves can roll, 
 Or that such lightnings can arise, 
 
 That such a dart could pierce the soul 
 In vulgar and plebeian eyes ? 
 
 No — by that air — that form and dress, 
 Thy Fusca of uncommon race 
 
 No doubt a high-born offspring is, 
 And swarthy kings her lineage grace. 
 
 Such decent modesty and ease — 
 But, lest my rapture be suspected. 
 
 Cease, prying, jealous lover, cease, 
 Nor judge the Muse too much affected. 
 
 Me, paler. Northern beauties move. 
 My bosom other darts receives ; 
 
 Think not I '11 toast an Indian love 
 While FiELDiiNG or a Shirley lives. 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 127 
 
 One other Poem solicits me. It is the Tatler of 
 No. 249, by the immortal Addison, put into a poeti- 
 cal habit ; and shews the versatiMty of his Muse. It 
 is in the same volume of 1732, and consequently 
 juvenile. 
 
 THE TRAVELS OF A SHILLING. 
 The busy path of active men, 
 Who tread this foolish worldly scene. 
 When bustling on their crowded stage, 
 Could my reflecting thoughts engage ; 
 Till soft repose, and gentle rest, 
 Hush'd ev'ry tumult of the breast ; 
 And my ideas, much the same, 
 Arrang'd themselves into a dream. 
 
 Methought a Shilling, round and fair, 
 In silver sounds harangued my ear ; 
 Which, from its usual prison freed, 
 Chanc'd on my table to be laid ; 
 And, op'ning oft its polish'd mouth, 
 Related an historic truth. 
 
 * Here, Critic, spare the dull objection, 
 Nor sneer the tale as idle fiction ; 
 Tripods, you know, in Homer walk. 
 And Bacon's head of brass could talk. 
 Thus, whether use or whim requires. 
 Things known to modern theatres. 
 Unheard-of prodigies, advance ; 
 Tea-pots can sing, and chairs can dance*. 
 
 " Me fair Peruvians climate nourish'd. 
 Where long the family had fliourish'd, 
 
 * This digression is the exclusive right of the Poet. 
 
 Witness 
 
128 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Witness the deep and spreading vein, 
 That in the Earth's rich bosom ran, 
 E'er since the sun, with genial po^ver, 
 First visited our sultry shore : 
 But, fearing sad Peruvians fate, 
 And loathing Spain with inbred hate. 
 Lest I should sneak, as others did, 
 In galleons pris'ner to Madrid, 
 There take the habit of my foes, 
 Their spectacles, and inustachoes ; 
 Better to live in utmost Finland ; 
 I e'en took ship with Drake for England. 
 
 Then good Eliza's golden sway 
 Adorn'd the Isle, and bless'd the sea : 
 Soon as we reach'd fara'd London's shore 
 I was conducted to the Tower ; 
 There by an art of curious power, 
 And quick'ning touch, no shapeless ore 
 As once I lay — in ev'ry feature, 
 Improv'd, I look'd a diff'rent creature; 
 Chang'd in my form, in air, in dress, 
 To my surprize, became Queen Bess: 
 A ruff* upon my neck was plac'd. 
 My hands her globe and sceptre grac'd. 
 And, in a beauteous round convey'd, 
 Her titles grac'd my letter'd head. 
 
 Thus, by adoption's forming bounty, 
 I seem'd a native of each county ; 
 And, privileg'd, my fickle mind 
 To rambling strangely was inclin'd ; 
 
 * All these paraphernalia are added by the Poet, and surely 
 with admirable effect. 
 
 'Twas 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIE9. 
 
 ^Twas Liberty's alluring smile 
 
 Drew me to this her fav'rite Isle. 
 
 Too long in close confinement pent, 
 
 No sooner had I left the Mint 
 
 But I had gossip'd, and had run 
 
 To ev'ry corner of the town ; 
 
 In square, in street, in court, in alley, 
 
 From Tower Hill to Piccadilly ; 
 
 Or, when my lodging I would change, 
 
 And in a suburb chuse to range. 
 
 My locomotive charms were seen 
 
 At Hampstead or in Turnham Green ; 
 
 In better mansions, or in worse, 
 
 III silken or 171 leather purse * ; 
 
 In galligaskins, whole or torn. 
 
 To markets, taverns, playhouse borne ; 
 
 Now on a Mercer's counter seated ; 
 
 In a fat Brewer's pocket sweated ; 
 
 Or, honour'd with a secret place 
 
 In CeelicCs or in Chloe's grace. 
 
 There took my short and fleeting stand, 
 
 And softly touch'd my charmer's hand ; 
 
 In a fair station grac'd and blest. 
 
 Where kings would give their crowns to rest 
 
 Or left the service, yet content. 
 
 Upon some pretty errand sent. 
 
 What kind attentions I have shewn. 
 
 To each possessor well is known : 
 
 When stomachs did for victuals ache, 
 
 I 've treated Macer with a steak ; 
 
 When the Beau fear'd a shower's approach, 
 
 For a spruce Templar call'd a coach ; 
 
 * Philips. 
 
130 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 With me no student in his cloysters 
 
 Or sig/i'd for ale, or pin\l Jor oysters * : 
 
 So happy was the fav'rite's case, 
 
 Whose honour'd fob my touch could grace. 
 
 Say, Chemist, what could more be done. 
 Had you possessed your fancied stone ? 
 
 Thus I in restless journeys went 
 From place to place, from Tweed to Kent, 
 When Fortune, ere I could apprize her, 
 Convey'd me to a sordid Miser, 
 Where many sufferers I found. 
 And my relations in a pound. 
 Unhappy victims ! and opprest 
 In the deep cavern of a chest. 
 
 There num'rous years in bondage pass'd, 
 Till the Old Hunks had breath'd his last ; 
 At the young Lord's commanding voice 
 The box flew open in a trice ; 
 Again we catch the Sun's dear face ; 
 Again renew the jocund race ; 
 Away to diff'rent shops we pack. 
 For brandy one, and one for sack, 
 t In Britain thus, when Monarch dies. 
 And Royal Heir his room supplies, 
 Through iVca'^a/e joyous cries are heard. 
 The debtor freed, and prison clear'd J. 
 
 Thence I continued much the same, 
 In honour, figure, and esteem. 
 Till the fam'd South Sea's flatt'ring year J, 
 When palaces could rise in air. 
 
 * Philips again. 
 
 f Added by the Poet, and with infinite humour. 
 t This also is added. 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 As the fond schemer ey'd my figure, 
 Methought I look'd some inches bigger. 
 
 But one adventure has impress'd 
 With grateful joy my pious breast ; 
 Once, and but once, the tale you '1! stare at, 
 I visited a Poet's garret, 
 When the Bard, smit with grateful zeal, 
 Awhile forgot his cheese and ale ; 
 Preferr'd me to each lovely dame. 
 Near VagcCa bank, or Severn stream ; 
 Invok'd each Muse my charms to tell. 
 That in his native mountains dwell ; 
 And while in verse my theme bewitches, 
 Regretting less the tatter'd breeches. — 
 Thus a vvii's hand at last I fell in, 
 His ever-living Splendid Shilling." 
 
 Here I would close my dlite of Davies's works, 
 though I leave many other of his effusions that 
 have striking and original passages in them ; but I 
 hope these extracts will recommend him, in your po- 
 pular work, to the notice of a generous, enlightened, 
 and impartial age. 
 
 " No dispute upon taste,'" we are told ; but I may 
 at least indulge the ivish, if I must not call it the 
 hope, that men of genius and virtue, regardless of 
 the feeble Champion he has found, may admire the 
 Poet, and may love the Man. 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 Geo. Hardinge. 
 
 K 2 
 
132 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE, 
 
 To John Nichols, Esq. 
 My dear Sir, Walton Grove, Mar. 9, 1S16. 
 I have received a mass of recent acquisitions to my 
 
 nAVIES-IANA. 
 
 To save myself a little trouble, as well as to over- 
 come a difficulty, in adapting these new materials to 
 the memoirs hitherto collected and arranged, /a//ere 
 et ejfugere, I shall make a Postscript of all that I 
 think worth your acceptance. 
 
 Dr. Thomas being ten years older. Da vies ap- 
 pears uniformly in all his Letters, even of badi- 
 nage, to mark the respect for him due to the dif- 
 ference of age. There is nothing so difficult, or so 
 amiable, in the junior of the two ages. 
 
 It appears to me, that both of them were, like 
 Davies's earlier friend Lord Camden, epicures, 
 though not a hint appears that either of them was 
 intemperate. 
 
 The Poet was fond of smoking his pipe, and ban- 
 ters himself as being no hero in cavalry. He piques 
 himself, however, upon his gun, and represents 
 that he shot a buck with his own hand. 
 
 Thomas was a huntsman ; but, except in occa- 
 sional visits to his patron the Earl of Oxford, he 
 appears to have been more stationary than Davies, 
 who made frequent rambles, and especially into 
 North Wales. 
 
 I am afraid that, although he calls himself a 
 Whig, his personal affection to Sir Ifutkin Wil- 
 liams Wynne, the most popular man of his day, 
 Toryized him, imperceptibly to himself. Lady 
 Wynne appe irs to have been one of his favourites. 
 
 He was, at least, very Anti-Walpolian. 
 
 The 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 135 
 
 The Dean of Lic'i/ield has obtained for me copies 
 of three Latin exercises written by D.wiEsat Eton 
 school. I intend n)aking extracts from them ; but 
 am arrested, in limine, by an elegant and accomr 
 plished man, the celebrated Melmotli, who, in FitZ' 
 Osborne's Letters (a most charming work, too little 
 read) turns all modern Latiiim inverse into ridicule. 
 
 Perhaps I am prejudiced, my own father having 
 made so brilliant a figure in that line of composition ; 
 but, as Tully said, " Uhenter erro, nec mihi hunc 
 " errorem dum vivam extorqueri velim." 
 
 I make one previous remark, ad homines, to all 
 the defamers of modern verse in the Augustan mea- 
 sure. I never met with any one of them who had 
 the talent of writing it. Dr. Johnson holds it 
 cheap. He wrote in it, and was under par in the 
 attempt. He was not at home in it ; and 1 have 
 detected in him what, in the r<^ginie of Eton disci- 
 pline, would have subjected him to the penalty 
 which he inflicts upon Milton at College. 
 
 il/r. Melmotlis arguments do not surprize me, 
 though I think them feeble, and a little disinge- 
 nuous, because I recollect his Notes upon the Let- 
 ters of Cicero, translated by him with such grace 
 of eloquence that one hardly misses the original. 
 But his notes are those of preconceived antipathy 
 to all the public virtues of that wonderful creature, 
 and much even of his domestic fame. They are 
 comments of polemic asperity and spleen, many of 
 them ungenerous, and ill argued, though specious 
 in the surface. 
 
 One of his remarks upon the Latin Poet of mo- 
 dern periods can immediately be refuted. He dc 
 niands, with an air of triumph, if any post-Au' 
 gusto n Bard, since the language became dead, has 
 written a considerable Poem in Latin verse. I an- 
 swer, by the celebrated work of Isaac Hawkins 
 Browne, on the Immortality of the Soul. It is 
 true that he could not have read that Poem when he 
 
 wrote 
 
134 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 wrote his defiance. But the after-existence of it 
 proves that in theory he was wrong. 
 
 He says, the language was difficult, even to the 
 themselves ; and that of conrse we have no 
 chance, unless hy patches of unequivocal plagiarism 
 from Firgil and Co.; for that else we are not sure of 
 the idiom. 
 
 I would first concede the minor of the syllogism, 
 ■whir-h, however, could be safely denied, and chal- 
 lenge him upon the hrf 'erence. 
 
 If. by tlie oc(;asional adoption of passages like 
 these, an elegant and class'cal air can be given to a 
 modern theme, \t is uiifinit de gagiid ; it is a diffi- 
 culty overcome, and the effect is pleasing. Nay, to 
 do this well, may as much distinguish a poetical ear 
 and judgment, as if all the words and phrases had 
 sprung from the writer alone. 
 
 There is a kind of surprize in wit, and L'icJ:e de- 
 fines it as the union of two dissimilar images. 
 
 But where is the fact, that modern verse in Latin 
 must be, for the sake of accuracy, a theft of the 
 idiom in the very habit of the antient Poet? Is it 
 in the Poem 1 have mentioned } Is it in Mr. Grays 
 Alcaic left at the Grande Chartreuse? and is it not 
 an honour to the habit of an attempt at least in La- 
 tin verse, that such a man chose it as the vehicle of 
 his poetical feelings, at the impulse of the moment, 
 and with a sublime effect ? 
 
 But I go further, and I ask if a knowledge of La- 
 tin idiom in verse or prose is not indispensable to a 
 just perception of classical beauties; and, if it is, 
 whether even the miscalculated ambition to attain it, 
 though sure to end in failure, does not improve the 
 taste? 
 
 Will any man. who knows the effect and principle 
 of style, deny that a knowledge in the taste and 
 charm of other languages improves eloquence in 
 our own ? 
 
 What 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 135 
 
 What shall be said of Milton ? Dr. Johnson, 
 who hates him with one of his excellent hatreds *, 
 would have us believe that others have written at 
 his youthful age better Latin verse than he wrote. 
 It may be so, though it is new to me ; but at least 
 it will be admitted, by those who have an ear, that 
 nothing in Grid himself is more beautiful, and, I 
 was going to say, more Ovidian, than his early and 
 flowing verse in that measure. 
 
 It reminds me of a Pedant (like ^lelmoth in this 
 article), who told me that " Ovid stood alone, and 
 that half an ear would refute the counterfeit." 
 
 I made believe to acquiesce; and repeated the 
 following lines " out of the Fasti ."' at a future 
 day, under pretence of ridicule upon them, and of 
 difficulty in making sense of them. He was enrap- 
 tured when I took a Milton out of my pocket, and 
 read them from him. 
 
 Tltey are so beautiful of their kind, that I will 
 insert them here, and close the discussion. 
 
 But can it be ever obliterated from the memory 
 of dispassionate criticism, that ff'^arton, another 3Hl- 
 ton-hater, affirmed in his first edition the following 
 paradox : 
 
 Milton had no ear 1 
 He withdrew it afterwards, and without apology. 
 
 " Desere," — Phcebus ait, " thalamos Aurora seniles ; 
 
 " Quid juvat effoeto procubuisse toro ? 
 " Te manet jEolides viridi venator in herba, 
 
 " Surge ; — tuos ignes altus Hymettus habet." 
 Flava verecundo Dea crimen in ore fatetur, 
 
 Et malutinos ocyus urget equos. 
 
 Was Paradise Lost the worse for these lines ? 
 
 * " He hales ffliigs, and he hates the Scotch, &e. — He is an 
 
 " excellent hater." 
 
 Having 
 
135 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Having made these apologies, I will take the cou. 
 rage to lay be fore you Davies at Etun school, the 
 writer of Latin verse. 
 
 Of course I shall not claim for him the merit of his 
 patterns, Ovid anA Horace. But the Header will, I 
 trust, give him credit for taste and teelmg, even in 
 these productions. 
 
 I will admit, beforehand, partial thefts of the kind 
 which Melmoth has deprecated, but which, as far 
 as they extend, are, in my conception, beauties, and 
 marks of genius. 
 
 One of these compositions, in Ovidion measure 
 and style, is upon Jealousy; and it will not elude 
 the remark of the Reader, which I can venture to 
 anticipate, with how much delicacy of judgment 
 this Poet in his teens, a boy at school, has combined 
 Othello's different soliloquies into one ; or how he 
 has varied them, without losing their spirit, in the 
 extract I am now to lay before him. 
 
 Nec miniis ardescit funis ap;itatus Othello, 
 
 Invitisque gemens polluit era sonis. 
 Non mihi * Lethceu perfusa papavc'-a somno 
 
 Jam referunt pulsi muiiera cara dei ; 
 Pallida lassatos macies depascitur artus, 
 Anxiaque in fixo lumine cura sedet ; 
 Ingruitatra dies, et noctis amarior umbra est, 
 
 Dum fcedo laesus crimiMe sordet amor. 
 Mens tranquilla vale, et virtus quascunque corollas 
 
 Texuerit nostris ambitiosa comis. 
 IJon animum exacuunt Mars et Btllona dolentem, 
 
 Ingratos edit buccina raiica sonos. 
 Jam Stygid Nemesis — Fiiidicfaque surgit ab unda, 
 
 Sanguineo cedit corde sepultus amor. 
 Ut pereat lasciva, — novos ne perdat amantes, 
 Una dies vitam finiet, una dolos. 
 
 * Aclniirably varied and shifted from Desdemona to him. 
 
 These 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIBS. 
 
 137 
 
 These are manly, affecting, and spirited lines, in 
 the best manner of both his models. 
 
 The other subject was that of Despair ; to illus- 
 trate which, he selects Miltons eloquent speech of 
 Mammon. 
 
 Thus early was Davies's predilection for Britains 
 Homer. 
 
 Here too, which is a discipline of infinite use in 
 forming the poetical taste of boys, he has aimed at 
 the tone and spirit of the English original, clothed 
 in a Pagan habit, and with Lyric melody. 
 
 As to his plagiarism, if it must be so called, from 
 Horace, I take the liberty of expressing my opinion 
 that it is not servile enough to degrade the copyist, 
 and is ingenious enough to recommend his judgment 
 in the passages which mark his imitation of so ex- 
 quisite a model. 
 
 Orci per sedes turba sileiis favet 
 Grale elocuto conciliantibus 
 Mammone — " Demens fortitudo 
 " Quo rapit at malesana virtus ? 
 
 " Pulsus redibit scilicet acrior, 
 *' Et marte ccelum proteret irrito ! 
 " — Speremne cum spes ipsa fug?t ? 
 " Stratus liumi superare coner ? 
 
 " Te quod negatum est quidlibet impotens 
 ' Sperare in armis, te, Satana, incitat 
 " Vindicta ? — surgas ; — etsub orco 
 *' Praecipitem ejicias tyrannum ! 
 
 " Te, cinctum in armis, iiistrue ! — lugubris 
 *' Fortuiia saeva clade iterabitur: 
 " Victusne victorem lacessit ? 
 " Nec metues Michaelis ensem ? 
 
 *' Vindicta 
 
138 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " Vindicta fallax ! plds vice simplici 
 " Assurgit ultor; desiiper ignebs 
 " Intorquet igiies ; poena vindex 
 *' Crescit et ingeminat procellam. 
 " Coelo tonantem seiisimus obruti, 
 " Regumque Regem : — Scimus ut arbiter 
 " III bella se accingens per altum 
 " Fulmineii equiiarit alis. 
 " Tunc experiri vim decuit : Jacet 
 " Kffracta virtus; — sulphure livido 
 " Involvimur; — quistela sumet 
 " Tartareis manicis gravalus? 
 *' Saliisne aperta est hostibus in jngo 
 " Coelum obsidebuni? — Fulniina muniunt 
 " Et Fata portas, — an tonantem 
 " Compositis veneremur arinis ? 
 " Absiste, cui victoria denegat 
 " Palttiam, a duello : serius induit 
 " Ille arma, cui victorem opimus 
 " Fallere et effugere est triumphus." 
 
 In December 1741, Davies wrote the following 
 spirited advice to the Queen of Hungary. Gene- 
 ral Neirperg had been defeated, and Prague had 
 been taken. 
 
 Lines to the Queen of HuNCARy, 
 
 AFTER THE LoSS OF PRAGUE. 
 
 'Tis not thy fault that Europe is undone ; 
 Retire ; enjoy tlie calm and setting sun 
 While yet the conscious dignity remains, 
 Nor base compliance wears the Gallic chains : 
 
 Assume 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 Assume the glories of the fallen brave, 
 Nor deem that lost, which valour could not save. 
 Know there is triumph in well-earn'd distress, 
 Tis thine, — let others quake at their success. 
 The princely dupes, of half thy realms possest ; 
 E'en leave the field, and blast them with the rest: 
 Leave them, O leave them, to the curs'd event. 
 To reign, and sigh — to conquer, and repent. 
 See Fleury with one hand presents the Crown, 
 The other hides the scourge within the gown. 
 
 Thus France rewards her gay confed'rate slaves, 
 The Prussian Boy shall have the rod he craves j 
 And Poland, on his sons, if he prevail, 
 Descending servitude, not crowns, entail. 
 
 Who would not trust such venerable things 
 As hoary Prelates, and Most Christian Kings? 
 A violated faith, unheard, and new is, 
 In successors of Mazarine and Louis ! 
 
 But see the Eagle to Bavaria flown, 
 Happy the man who mounts the Roman throne j 
 Happy to flutter in Imperial plumes. 
 With length of titles, and with sound of drums. 
 Eas'd of all pow'r, that Gallia shall supply 
 For her good cousin, brother, and ally ! 
 
 From thine, what memorable aids ensue 
 (Firm to thy int'rest, if their own they knew). 
 Let unimpassion'd History declare. 
 To make the future generation stare. 
 
 Retire thou peaceful to Etrurians seat, 
 In soul, superior to all sceptres, great; 
 
140 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 There shall kind Neptune fence the wat'ry bound ; 
 There Nature stretch her guardian-hills around. 
 No more thy towns be sack'd, thy armies bleed. 
 But noble arts to diadems succeed. 
 There shall thy joys begin ; — thy labour ends, 
 Secure from Foes, Relations, Turks, and Friends. 
 
 Her Majesty, I dare say, like other Ladies upon 
 similar occasions, tlianked Mr, Davies ; and went 
 her own way. 
 
 I have just received many other Letters, in the 
 original of Lord Camden, to his friend. 
 
 One of them is dated the 2yth of November 1 74^2, 
 and being, as 1 think, an excellent Letter in itself, 
 I copy it here. 
 
 " Dear Davies, November 29, l^J4^^. 
 
 *' 1 am obliged to you for your Letter, and shall 
 " be for your verses when I receive them, which I 
 " have not yet; for, though Wlialcy has brought 
 " them to town, Naylor * has laid liold of them, 
 " and he detains them. 
 
 " You desire to know how the world goes : I 
 " might bid you come and see ; for a man who lives 
 " apart and sequestered from the reach of all news, 
 " and that wilfully too, deserves to hear none, 
 
 " I suppose you know, in general, the temper of 
 " Parliament ; and of its monitors : the desperate 
 " instructions of your friends, the Tories, have 
 " shewn clearly enough their hope to be that of con- 
 " fusion. In a word, finding Ihey are as obnoxious, 
 " even since the change of Administration, as be- 
 " fore, and as far distant from places, the only mo- 
 " tives in this age to conversion : they cry out against 
 
 * John Naylor, of King's College, Cambridge, B. A. 1730 ; 
 M. A, 1734; i). D. 1749. 
 
 " the 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 141 
 
 " the new Ministers with more vehemence than 
 " against the old, and want ah'eady to reform their 
 " own reformation. — They are, it seems, betrayed; 
 " they are deserted ; and they denounce vengeance 
 " against those who, as they assert, have deluded them. 
 
 " To-morrow is appointed for an impeachment of 
 " Lord O. upon the Report of the Secret Commit- 
 " tee. This is the last card they have left; and they 
 " hope it may have one or other of these conse- 
 " quences — either to carry their point by the assist- 
 " ance of their old friends the New Ministers ; or, if 
 " they should refuse their concurrence, to make 
 " them universally odious. What the event will be, 
 " cannot be seen with certainty at present, but Lord 
 " Orfords friends are very sanguine. They, in- 
 " deed, appear to be confident of success. 
 
 " If this point should be lost, the Session will be 
 " an easy one ; for the majority of the House, upon 
 " all other questions in support of the new men, will 
 " beat all opposition down, 
 
 " However, I must inform you that all the new 
 " placemen are not satisfied. Lord Gower will cer- 
 " tainly resign, as will my Lord Cobham, and of 
 " course Pitt and Lyttelton, who remain still in the 
 " opposition, but will be forced, as I hear, to quit 
 
 the service of the Heir Apparent.''' 
 
 " Dec. 2, 1742. 
 
 " I left off, as you see, and postponed the convey- 
 " ance of my Letter, to give you an account of the 
 " Great 3Iotion, and of its result. 
 
 " It was moved yesterday to revive the Committee 
 *' of Enquiry against Lord Orford; but the Motion 
 " was lost. The Numbers against it were 253; for 
 « it 187. 
 
 " All the new Ministers were firm to Lord 
 " Orford at this time ; for they looked upon it as 
 
 " rather 
 
142 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " rather an attack upon them, in its object, than 
 " upon liim. 
 
 " They menace other questions of tlie same kind ; 
 " but I suspect this majority will discourage them 
 
 from any further attempt. 
 
 " Mr. Murray, who is made Solicitor-Ceneral, 
 " was introduced yesterday into the House, and voted 
 " as one of the majority. 
 
 " Here, I think, are pohtics enough. How they 
 will please j/o?/, I cannot even guess; for the people 
 " at a distance from town have conceived so mvete- 
 " rate a hatred against Ministers and Courts, that I 
 " am afraid they would never like any Government, 
 " where either of those two parties are concerned. 
 " You tell me that Liberty and Opposition are my 
 proper sphere. Perhaps they are ; but these 
 " words have been perverted, by those who have used 
 " them to such wild and strange purposes, that I am 
 " half sick of them, and would preserve the medium, 
 " if I could find it, between a bad government, and 
 " the opposite alternative — no government at all. 
 
 " The last Instructions are so outrageous, that I 
 " am ashamed of calling them Liberty ; for to me 
 " they appear to mean the coarse and brutal lierce- 
 " ness of Misrule, and of Anarchy. Therefore, if a 
 " party should rise to oppose the Opposers, I would 
 " join them, and be in the Opposition still. 
 
 " Yours most affectionately, C. Pratt." 
 
 I cannot help touching here upon a curious and 
 whimsical coincidence between two future Chancel- 
 lors, the first Lo) d Hardwicke, and the first Lord 
 Camden. 
 
 I had the singular good fortune to read a series of 
 Letters like this, written by the first of these great 
 men to a Couutry Gentleman, his friend, when he 
 had just commenced his professional career. They 
 are easy, natural, and pleasant, relating anecdotes, 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 143 
 
 like these, in a most entertaining manner, and appa- 
 rently well informed in the political circles of the day. 
 
 Nothing is more amiable than such attentions to 
 an absent and rural friend, as calculated for the sin- 
 gle object of social benevolence. 
 
 Davies, who was proud of his newsman, conveys 
 a copy of this Letter to Dr. Thomas, and, piqued 
 against him, proposes to his friend a reply to him, 
 in these words : 
 
 " Dear Pratt, 
 " By Opposers to the Opposition, I suppose you 
 " mean the Court and the Ministers ; to whom if 
 " you are not already a convert, I foresee that you 
 " will be, and speedily too." 
 
 But whatever in jest he intimates here to his po- 
 litical associate, his nature was too gentle, and his 
 partiality for the writer too deeply rooted, for even 
 this ridicule upon him. 
 
 In the following January we find Mr. Pratt en- 
 gaged at Kings College in the election of a nevr 
 rrovost. 
 
 " Dear Sneyd, 
 
 * * * " We are all busy in the choice of a new 
 *' Provost. George and Thackeray are the candi- 
 " dates. — George has all the power and weight of 
 " the Court interest ; but I am for Thackeray — so 
 " that I am at present a Patriot, and vehemently 
 " declaim against all unstatutable influence, 
 
 " The College are so divided, that your friends 
 " the Tories may turn the balance if they will: but, 
 " if they should be moody, and either absent them- 
 *' selves, or nominate a third man, Chapman for 
 " example, Thackeray will be discomfited. 
 
 « Wliy 
 
l44 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " Why are not you a Doctor } We could chuse 
 " you against all opposition. — However, I insist upon 
 
 it, that you shall qualify against the next vacancy, 
 " — for, since you will not come to London, and 
 " wear lawn sleeves, you may stay where you are, 
 " and be a Provost. 
 
 " Frederick Cornwallis, who is come to London, 
 " will solicit Snope's Prebend. You wish him suc- 
 " cess, I know; but I fancy he must wait till another 
 " turn. 
 
 " We think the Session will be short, and that 
 " you will see your Patriot friends in the country 
 " soon. 
 
 " I perceive that we differ somewhat in our poli- 
 " tics. — But I do not care ; we agree well enough in 
 " the main, and we had best, I think, defer any further 
 " mention of these topics till we can debate them 
 '•' over a bottle. 
 
 " I rejoice in your verses." 
 
 I have principally copied this Letter for the pur- 
 pose of marking a simplicity in Davies, not unwor- 
 thy of the Rev. Mr. Abraham Adams. 
 
 He writes the moment he has received this Letter 
 to his friend at Presteigne; and, construing the light 
 phrase of good-humoured flattery as a concerted opi- 
 nion of the College, he writes these words : 
 
 " Audi, Amicitia! aliter nondixerim. You know, 
 " I suppose, that a new Provost is to be chosen at 
 " Kings. — ^I'his to me is no actual success, but a 
 " little self-satisfaction. 
 
 " There is much division amongst them, three 
 " candidates on different grounds of interest ; but 
 " / am told that I should carry it against all 
 " opposition — but am not of standing enough by 
 " one year. It may be impudence to add, that they 
 " seem determined to have a statutable election, — 
 " oue of their own choosing, without Court influence! 
 " Yours ever, S. D." 
 
 " Upon 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 145 
 
 Upon the celebrated party-contest between Les- 
 tock and Matheivs, Davies wrote a most animated 
 epigram in honour to the memory of Cornwall, who 
 was killed in the action. 
 
 I have a short Letter of Thomas, dated May 1744. 
 
 " I see Lesf.ock and Cornivall are got into the 
 " Evening Post, which got hither to-day. — They 
 " seem to have been put in bv I'elters, or some 
 " friend of li'is; for you see they are inscribed to Mr. 
 " Cornwall ; and I warrant you there are several 
 " who have claimed the merit of them. 
 
 " Sic vos non vobis. Tuus T. T." 
 
 I have these lines in Davies's hand, and copy 
 them with enthusiasm. 
 
 What is the vollied bolt's corporeal maim 
 Of limbs dissever'd — to a blasted name ! 
 Laurels and honours wait tije mangled brave, 
 With his whole fame descending to his grave. 
 Who does not hail the gallant CornxDaWs wound ? 
 
 Who does not spurn at L k safe and sound ? 
 
 Spare the fond sigh ! — and Britain's tears be shed 
 For dastards living — not for heroes dead ! 
 
 It happens whimsically that I possess a Letter in- 
 tended for his friend Mr. Pratt, but not sent. — I 
 have no doubt that he thought it uninteresting, for 
 he had no mercy, and gave no quarter to his own 
 works. 
 
 It appears to me worthy of his pen. 
 
 " Dear Pratt, 
 " You know you saw me in town : we dined toge- 
 " ther at a tavern, and I was to breakfast with you 
 " the next morning ; but, upon a serious computa- 
 L " tion 
 
146 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " tion with myself, I found the time destined for my 
 " absence outrun by some days, and away I scam- 
 " pered. 
 
 " It is well I did, for I came home just in time 
 " for business. This 1 know, that 1 missed seeing 
 " Mr. Hardinge, whom it was my full intention to 
 " see; and, if I had not been misinformed, I should 
 " certainly have called at Kingston. — I shall be glad 
 
 to be better acquainted with him, and In less aice 
 " of him, which a little time would bring about. 
 
 " Between ff^indsor and If'okingham, in the Fo- 
 " rest, I mused not a little about you and me, and 
 *' versified boyishly enough : but since forgot our 
 " contrary situations, tending to the same point of 
 " dullness and of indifTerence, one by weight of bu- 
 " siness perhaps hereafter, the other through idle- 
 " ness; you working at Law till you become insensi- 
 " ble to joy, when I shall quietly sink into nothing. 
 
 " I recollect, however, to have lately heard that 
 " you had thoughts of matrimony. 
 
 " This will destroy the comparison between us, 
 " and will turn the balance of advantage to your 
 " side. It will keep you awake and alert, better 
 " than Grand Cyrus *, after a long cause at IVest- 
 " jninster. 
 
 " When I began to write, I thought I had a great 
 " deal of humour for you ; see what it is — tamed 
 " and checked in the very act of writing what you 
 " will not answer. — Why then do I send it? Why ? 
 " It is to let you know that I am 
 
 " Yours affectionately, S. D." 
 
 " July 22, ] 748 -f-. 
 
 * Lord Camden had in every part of his life a passion for the 
 old Romances, and 1 helieve he had read eveiy one of them. 
 
 + It may sound a paradox, but 1 must correct this date, tliough 
 it is in Davies's hand, and should tliink it a mistake of ten years 
 if it is a mistake, for his figure 3 is not unlike a 4, and vice versd. 
 
 I think 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 147 
 
 1 think it is clear that in I76I he had solicited 
 preferment ; for one expression contained in Lord 
 Camderis Letter to him, dated in that year, which 
 I possess in the original, marks it without asserting it. 
 
 " Dear Davies, Camden Place, Sept. 13, 1761. 
 
 ****'< As to yourself, my old friendship and 
 " esteem will always preserve you in my thoughts 
 " without the aid of' a memorandum ; but God 
 " knows whether I shall have interest or authority 
 " enough to obtain Church preferments, &c. &c. 
 
 " C. Pratt." 
 
 What is the inference from the contrast ? That 
 man is ignorant of himself, and is like Benedick, 
 who did not think of being ever married when he 
 said he would live a Bachelor ! 
 
 There is another passage in this Letter, not a little 
 striking, from that credulous, amiable, and fond sim- 
 plicity of character which constituted a leadmg fea- 
 ture in the portrait now before us. Though Mount- 
 eney had neglected him, and had not even acknow- 
 ledged the receipt of his Letter ; yet, because in a 
 convivial meeting between him and Pratt, their 
 common friend, he was kind in his inquiries after 
 the Rectf)r of Kingsland — he affirms with pride 
 that no friend ever deceived him ! 
 
 He appears to have been fond of humour and wit, 
 but never to have courted it ; though, if it fairly 
 came across him, he jiicked it up, dropped it again, 
 and thought of it no more. 
 
 In 1739> Dec. 23, at an early period of the inter- 
 course with Presteigne, he writes, in this natural 
 and familiar style, a charming Letter to his new 
 friend. 
 
 L 2 " Dear 
 
L48 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 " Wlien I return vou many thanks for vour kind 
 " Letter of Saturday last, 1 must at the same time 
 " acquaint you that I fear you have a good deal to 
 " answer for, in speaking so favourably of certain 
 " rhymes ; for you must know that I grew vain upon 
 " it, and continued in that state for half an hour, 
 " till, after searching into the merits of the cause, I 
 
 found that certain things, called Parfiulifi/ and 
 " Candour, at the best had perverted a judgment ' 
 " which, unbiassed, is of sterhng value. I agree 
 " that you shall keep what is the subject of this de- 
 " tection, tha*^ you may be convinced, at \o\ir lei- 
 *' sure, how much you have proved yourself in the 
 " wrong. 
 
 "To dissetnble with you no more, I will now 
 " disclose the fact, that I enclosed these trifles to 
 " entice you into something infinitelv superior out 
 " of your hands; for I dare say the Muses are no 
 " strangers in your house. You see that I am a man 
 " of the world, and that I have interest in view. 
 
 *' As folks from mud-wdll'd tenement 
 " Bring landlords pepper-corn as rent, 
 *' Present a turkey or a ben 
 " To those might better spare 'em ten : 
 " Ev'n so — says Matthew Prior — I, 
 " For first men instance, then apply, 
 
 " Send you a homely letter, 
 
 " Who ir.ay return U)e a mncli betlt r. 
 
 " Dr. Cranhe's * horse, upon which I had pro- 
 " posed a visit in Presteigne, has constant emplov- 
 " ment under him ; but 1 shall with all practicable 
 " speed look out for another. To convince you that 
 
 * This gentleman eludes all search after him, though he ap- 
 pears to have been very much admired and beloved by Davies, 
 and by all his friends. He was a Physician ; and lived at Etjton 
 Hall, about three miles from Kiiigstand. 
 
 " Presteigne 
 
DR. SNEYD DAAIES. 
 
 149 
 
 " Presteigne is in my thoncrlits, I acquaint you 
 *' that I have discovered a new way to it by the help 
 " of road connoisseurs ; — but how sliall 1 be accurate 
 " in spelhng it — through Couhope, over Darvel *, 
 "and tluougli or x\q<\v Lye, or a name somewhat 
 " like it. 
 
 " I intend putting these theories into the earliest 
 " experiment; and I hope to give you an account of 
 " the new-found passage at your own house t!ie week 
 " after next. 
 
 " Is not there a sea-passage in the North of Jme- 
 " rica which has the name of Davies's Streights r 
 " But how shall I establish the application ? The 
 " last question is not so foolish as tlie former. But 
 " I have stepped into nonsense before i was aware 
 of it. 
 
 " Have you seen tlie Entjairif into the Meaning 
 of Demoniacs in So Ip/ure-^f, and the rlnsiver'^ to 
 " it. i intended a longer chat ; but the Fates, in the 
 " shape of supjjer on the table, and company just 
 " come in, will not have it so. 
 
 " Your affectionate humble servant, 
 
 " Sn. Davies." 
 
 I have laid stress on the felicity of Davies in the 
 acquisition of such a neighbour, genius, guide, and 
 friend, as Thomas, He seems to have been struck 
 with him when he solicited correspondence with him 
 in 1737. He had not been possessed of his little 
 Rectory, a feather compared with Presteigne, which 
 he calls in one of his Letters ajbt Rectory. I'heir 
 
 * He is generally facetious upon these roadi, and in one of 
 his early banters upon them he calls the rocks on one side Lvinb- 
 /«rteanci on the other ScijUu and Clxirybilis. Who will beliexe nie 
 when 1 say, that in 1815, at the (li■^^ance of more than 70 years, 
 they are very little improved ? — 1 haie cxpei ienced the infandam 
 dnlorem. 
 
 f By the Rev. Dr. M illiam H'orthington, a Welsh Divine. 
 \ My the Rev. Dr. Hugh Farmer. 
 
 fate 
 
150 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 fate is different : the latter has fallen off ; the former 
 has become "fat." 
 
 In 1751 Davies lost his friend, who died in that 
 year at the very age which Davies attained at the 
 time of his death, near twenty years afterwards, 
 Jifty-nine ; a disparity of years which makes their 
 friendship more honourable to both of them. 
 
 I have a copy of Thomas's will. — He makes 
 Davies a co-executor. He leaves him his Cornelian 
 seal, set in gold, with the head of Plato done by 
 Mr. Christian ; his rough tortoise-shell tobacco- 
 stopper finished with gold, and two diamonds ; and 
 whatever books he shall chuse out of his collection ; 
 and he returns those which Davies had given to 
 him out of his uncle's library ; the six pictures 
 bought by the Testator at Laivton; and the silver 
 candlestick for wax-light, formerly his uncle's. 
 
 After marking where he wished they would bury 
 him, he desires a marble slab, or brass plate, with a 
 short inscription, in English or Latin, which he 
 desires may be drawn up by his dear friend the Rec- 
 tor of Kingsland ; a last favour, which he makes 
 no doubt that he will readily grant to one so long 
 acquainted with his great virtues, and who loved 
 and honoured him accordingly. 
 
 Is it credible? — No — but it is true — that of this 
 inscription, /•/?oi<;n to have been written — in Latin — 
 there is not a vestige to be found ! In some of the 
 church-improvements it has been mislaid — another 
 word for lost and thrown away. 
 
 Upon the 4th of July I74O he writes thus: 
 " De \r Doctor, 
 
 " I wish myself joy of my arrival at Kingsland, 
 " within six miles of my good friend. 
 
 " A few hours before I left Berkshire, I received 
 " a Letter from you, in answer to mine from Lon- 
 " don, which helped me to set out in good spirits. 
 
 * In which count)' he had visited Mr. Dodd at Stvallowfield. 
 
 " Several 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 " Several friends accompanied me as far asGlouces- 
 tershire * ; and in the way to it we made a circle 
 " through Newhery, and paid our homage to old 
 Chaucer s mansion. 
 
 *' Where can I with more propriety mention Pope 
 than after naming his parent? How unhappy was 
 •'I, in ignorance of the fact that I should have 
 " been welcome under his roof I But, had I known 
 " it, how could the knowledge avail me ? / had no 
 " one to introduce me -j-. Some time or other I 
 " may possibly be introduced by yourself, and then 
 I cannot fail to be well received. 
 " The enclosed Ode was written by Mr. Har- 
 dinge after visiting Pope; which I send you, that 
 " you may wonder, as I do, they are not better ac- 
 " quainted. Sn. Davies." 
 
 HORTI POPIANI; WRITTKN IN 1738. 
 POPII fas sit nemus, et penates 
 Ingredi ; quamvis strepitum malignae 
 Plebis, hie grato vacuus sub antro, 
 
 Spernit, et arcetj. 
 Ipse Musarum comes, et virentis 
 Hortuli cultor, per amoena vatis 
 Rura vicini, pede non profaiio, 
 
 Dum licet, errem ; 
 Quo ducas, quo me rapitis, Camcena, 
 Saxeis iietum latebris, et antri 
 Semitd § laetum T/iamesisqne fluctu 
 
 Praetereiintis. 
 
 * Where he visited his friend Mr. Cambridge, at Whitminster, 
 near Stroud. 
 
 t Such was the modesty (upon the verge of mauvaise hontej 
 inseparable from the habit of his Hfe. 
 
 J See Mr. Pope's Epistle to Dr. Arbulhnot, — 
 " Shut, shut the door, Sfc." 
 
 % " Fallentis semita vita" is inscribed on the entrance of this 
 grotto. 
 
 Me 
 
152 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Me levis Ij'mphae trepidanie rivo 
 Sparge, muscosi mihi Ndi venas 
 Fontis, et sacros penitils cavernae 
 
 Pande recessus. 
 
 Est tuuni, fessi renovare nervos 
 Ingeni; — nee vos, Lemurcs, coriiscis 
 Dedecet conchis domino * coromm 
 Nectere vestro. 
 
 Quis procul summo lapis in vireto 
 Candet ? — agnosco memoris querelae 
 Signa, et incisam merita t parentis 
 
 Laude columiiam. 
 
 Quo vagor ? magnis simulata cernam 
 Tecta, apum sedes ? caveamne lentis 
 Qua salex ramis tremulaque mcErens 
 Imminet umbra r 
 
 An toros herbae magis, an comantis 
 Copiam sj Ivae, nitidaeque mirer 
 Plurimuni lauri decus, an patentis 
 
 Laeve paltestrae 
 
 Gramen ? O quis me specula reponet 
 Fioiidei collis, juga qua siipiiiae 
 Clara Shena-tc %, viireumque laie 
 
 Prospicil amnem ? 
 
 * A piece of phell-vvork in the form of a crovcn supported by 
 pillars. It is here supposed a work of tlie Fairies. 
 
 t An obelisk erected by Mr. Pope to the memory of his Mo- 
 ther : " Ah Ec/iiAavale, niatrum optima, mulierum^ amantUsima.'' 
 
 J Richmond, formerly called Shene-hilt, till the reign of Hen. 
 [■ II. For the sake of the verse the word Sheria is lengthened. 
 
 § Wuli submission to Mr. Pope, I cannot admire \he Lutinitij of his idi- 
 om, wliiL ii makes the compliuient so equivocal, that it would suit the gallan- 
 tries of Sii/jj>/w. G. H. — The same objection to this epithet has been made 
 by ulheis. 
 
 Talis, 
 
DR. 8NEYD DAVIES. I53 
 
 Talis*, OMuste, ferar ijjse, vestro 
 Fonte decurrens,— nec iners, nec acer, 
 Plenus, at ripae patiens, profundo 
 
 Fluniine puriis. 
 
 Quid nov^ posco piece ? iiie procacis 
 Barbito solers leviore caiitu 
 Musa me nugis voiuit jocisque 
 
 Fallerc vitam f. 
 
 Littore hoc saltern viridante tecum 
 Considens Flaccum videar % tueri, 
 Dicta depascar i| tua, sub cavernae 
 
 Tegmine, POPI. 
 
 " April II, 1744. 
 *#*<«! could wish you had not shewn Mr. 
 
 " Proctor the lines on . They are trifling, 
 
 " and he really had no intention of plaguing me 
 " with a visit, and such a notion reported might put 
 
 * Imitation of the celebrated lines in Denham : 
 
 " O could I flow like thee, and make thy stream 
 My bright example as it is my theme ! 
 Though deep yet clear, though gentle never dull. 
 Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full." 
 A Spanish writer commends Mnnzanures, the river of Madrid, 
 for not being deep, for not being full, for not being navigable, 
 and polluted with traffick. 
 
 f Fallentis vitce — Pope's inscription, above quoted. 
 X In imitation of the compliment paid by Mr. Pope himself 
 to Mr. Pelhaw, in the Dialogue entitled. One thousand seven hun- 
 dred and thirty eight .- 
 
 " Pleas'd let me own, in Esher's peaceful grove. 
 Where Kent with Nature vies for Pelham's love, 
 The scene, the master op'ning to my view, 
 I sit, and dream I see my Crog-,?s anew." 
 § A metaphor borrowed from Lucretius: 
 
 " Floriferis ut apes in saltibus omnia libant, 
 Omnia nos itidem depascimur axirea dicta 
 Aurea, perpetu^ semper dignissima viti." 
 
 " it 
 
154 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " it into the fellow's head. It was told me in jest — 
 " though my contempt for the man is so very supe- 
 " rior to my abhorrence, that, if he came hither to- 
 " night, 1 would send him a-packing to-morrow as 
 " sure as his name is ." 
 
 I have copied this extract for the purpose of shew- 
 ing that one of the best-natured beings upon earth 
 could be personally bitter, and for the purpose of 
 introducing the verse to which he alludes. — It is 
 more bitter still, but a most brilliant specimen of 
 satirical powers. 
 
 That he had these powers at command many little 
 escapes like this from his pen would prove. — But 
 his temper and benevolence kept them in order, and 
 at bay. 
 
 His were, in general, the energies of a moralizing 
 spirit. — But, that he could write with personal as- 
 perity, the following spirited impromptu upon the 
 subject of this Mr. will afford ample evi- 
 dence ; and the Reader will be much pleased with it 
 for its mock-heroic solemnity, which, I think, was 
 the favourite cast of his humour. At the same time 
 he has copied the polished grace of Pope in his 
 numbers with happy effect. 
 
 AD PRIAPUM; 
 
 Sent to a Friend at Cambridge, to be read to 
 
 on hearing that he intended him a visit. 
 
 Droll, heathen pow'r ; — divinity obscene ; 
 Save the ripe fruit, and keep the garden clean. 
 Come in thy tatter'd coat, and paunch of straw. 
 Terror of thieves ; — thy wooden rapier draw. 
 Assist and guard me from the rifling foe. 
 And shake thy turnip-noddle at the crow, 
 
 With 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 155 
 
 With rustling gales redouble thy alarms, 
 And, if thou canst, avert all other harms! 
 Avert — what more I fear than jays or owls, 
 I tell thee — 'tis a visit — and from . 
 
 It has often struck me that in every man's life 
 extraordinary and romantic felicities may be found, 
 as well as extraordinary misadventures. I have seen 
 it in the first Lord Camden s life, and felt it in my 
 own. Family pictures would be a romance in every 
 house, little or great, if they could be faithfully de- 
 lineated, as they are by Augustine Fontaine. 
 
 It was a boon of the Fairies, that, just at the pe- 
 riod of Davies's heaviest blow, the loss of his friend 
 at Presteigne, Cornivallis had become the Bishop 
 of Lichjield ; and by his endearing attentions made 
 tlie remainder of his life a scene of delightful inter- 
 course with him, and with a most interesting sett of 
 literary men at LicJifield, who were charmed with 
 him, and left the most afTectionate memorials of him 
 behind them which tradition has preserved. All 
 his few Letters upon the subject of this Prelate 
 make one love them both. 
 
 Every word in Davie s breathes a " language of 
 the heart." 
 
 He writes thus to his friend at Presteigne. 
 
 " Dear Doctor, Feb. 5, 1 749-50. 
 
 " Saturday night's post brought me a letter, pen- 
 " ned by my Lord of Lichjield ; who takes me at 
 " my word *, and says that I have freed hi'n from a 
 " difficulty which had perplexed him, the choice of 
 ** a proper Chaplain; — a point, he adds, of the 
 
 * DoeB uot this prove that he had a$ked for it ? 
 
 " utmost 
 
156 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " utmost consequence ; for, after much thought, he 
 " could fix upon no one tliat would answer his pur- 
 " pose; that, if he could have thought I would have 
 " accepted, he would have immediately offered it*. 
 " He desires I would be domestic, so that we might 
 " live together a good part of the year; and, though 
 " he cannot promise great things, he will find some- 
 " thing worth my acceptance -f. In short, it is a 
 " most friendly and kind Letter — in the fair spirit 
 " of his early acquaintance with me. As he desired 
 " an answer immediate, as to the point of being r/o- 
 " me.stic, at least of my appearing;}: in that character 
 " when he should be at Ln hjield, by last night's post 
 " I consented. — It was too late for consulting friends 
 " (yourself) ; and I had gone too far before to think 
 of receding. 
 
 " Thus, against former and vehement resolutions, 
 " I am become a dependant — but I surrender to an 
 
 intimate and an old friend, which makes a dijf 'ei - 
 " ence^. 
 
 " Do you not wonder that I should find him pcr- 
 " fectly disengaged, and that neither his Relations, 
 " nor the Ministry, should at all interfere : 
 
 " Well — I am in for it, and may be lostin the mud, 
 " if not even drowned ; but I dare believe that 1 have 
 " strength and vigour enough to swim out again, 
 " and recover land, whenever it may suit me. 1 will 
 " not venture out of reach from the shore. 
 
 " How will Harrons applaud his keen sagacity I 
 " for it appears || the Bishop did really think I would 
 " not accept; and you know I promised you in print 
 " that we should wear no liveries, 8^c. 
 
 * Here again is the simplicity of Davies's character. — " Cre- 
 " dula res amor est." 
 
 f He showered upon him whatever he could give. 
 
 I How cliarming was the delicacy of the condition ! It was 
 like Alworthy's lodgings in town to be kept for him, who scarce 
 ever used them, by Mrs. Miller, who was to let them in the mean 
 time. 
 
 § Oil, what a self-deceiver is man ! 
 
 II Simplicity again ! 
 
 " Seriously, 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES, 
 
 157 
 
 *' Seriously, tiiay not this appointment, as I am 
 " in effect sole Chaplain, put it in my power to do 
 " some little good * ; which I have more at heart 
 " (you must not call it vanity) than all preferments 
 " in the world ? 
 
 " Perhaps I am too sanguine, having so little ac- 
 " quaintance with mankind ; and you, who know 
 " more of it, may foresee difficulties which do not 
 
 occur to me. Yours ever, S. D." 
 
 June 25, 1750, he dates from the Bishop's Palace 
 at Eccleshall, in the county of Stafford. 
 
 . , Eccleshall Castle ; for a 
 
 My dear Doctor, ^^^^j ^i^^j, j^^^ 
 
 " Am not I tardy in writing? But can you not 
 " suppose that my time has been pretty much taken 
 " up between attendance and company, morning 
 " and afternoon excursions ? You must know that, 
 " by his Lordship's good permission, I am pre-emi- 
 " nent as a Rambler far and near. The late Bishop's 
 " Chaplain and Secretary declare that I have seen 
 " more of the County in less than a fortnight than 
 " either of them has done in a course of nine years. 
 
 " You will rejoice with me that all things are to 
 *' my perfect content and satisfaction. The Bisho])'s 
 " behaviour is free and kind. These, you will say, 
 *' are too early days lor conjecture to rest upon 
 " them ; yet, knowing as I do (and have done for 
 " years) the man, as well as my own resolution, 
 " never to intrude or trepi)ass upon his amiable tem- 
 " per, I venture to believe that I shall find him ever 
 " the sanie. He remembers the host at Presteigne. 
 
 "As I honour him, it is with cordial pleasure that 
 " I observe his obliging treatment of all the woVld ; 
 
 * Simplicity again ! He is a casuist without meaning it. 
 
 " though 
 
158 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " though with strangers he supports dignity, but 
 " with ease, and without reserve or stiffness. 
 
 " Without saying too much in his praise, 1 verily 
 " think he is in all respects equal to his high station, 
 " willing to perform all his duty, and making a con- 
 " science of it. 
 
 " Is it not a comfort that I should live to see this? 
 " Believe me when I say it is. 
 
 " Eccleshall, July ^Q, 1750. 
 
 " I did not receive your Letter till we arrived at 
 *' Lkhjield, in our way to Coventry ; and though 
 " my Bishop made some little stay, especially at 
 " Lichfield (where he was received with uncommon 
 " respect, and more, as they tell me, than was paid 
 " heretofore to those who have preceded him) ; yet, 
 " between visits there and in the neighbourhood, 
 " and constant company, I could not find a moment's 
 " leisure to write — no — not even to you, till my re- 
 " turn hither. 
 
 *' Scrihetur tibi forma loquaciter, et situs. 
 
 " I told you it had been a Castle. — All that re- 
 " mains of it is a deep moat, that is dry, and is lined 
 " from top to bottom with free-stone, a large octan- 
 *' gular tower converted into a pigeon-house, and 
 "one apartment which is handsomely vaulted, and 
 " supported by pillars, now a cellar. 
 
 " The house itself is but indifferent, if considered 
 " as a Bishop's residence, and has barely room to 
 " hold his family. 
 
 " The best thing out f)f doors is a handsome and 
 " pleasant grove of tall firs, branching out into va- 
 " riety of paths and walks. It has also a further 
 '• convenience, for without it the house would be 
 " exposed very much to the neighbouring town. — 
 " Were i to address the said grove on tiie subject 
 
 of his Lordship, it would be thus : 
 
 Though 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 159 
 
 Though form'd by HouglCs indulgent plan 
 
 Your hospitable bow'rs were niade, 
 No breast more gen'rous, more huniane, 
 
 Has yet enjoy'd your friendly shade. 
 
 " Cau you suspect that I have sent you here a new 
 stanza of some comphmentary Ode in honour to 
 the Bishop, and as courting his favour? — Not so: 
 nor is there any Ode from which it is a runaway ; 
 nor is panegyric necessary, for I persuade myself 
 that I have something better without it, his good- 
 will and his warm heart. 
 
 " Of all that I have yet seen, and I have seen 
 almost every thing, Mr. Anson s place captivates 
 the most. It has the happiest and the most grace- 
 ful union of Grecian taste and of Oriental magni- 
 ficence, particularly one room. — I find it thus de- 
 lineated upon my tablets : 
 
 "'Mr. Anson's — a beautiful house and river; 
 grounds well disposed; Chinese buildings and 
 bridges ; a church-like pigeon-house ; excellent 
 modern ruins, — He has erected a pile of broken 
 arches, and of imperfect pillars, to counterfeit the 
 remains of antiquity. — The architect could not 
 perform part satisfactorily without finishing the 
 whole. Then comes Mr. Anson with axes and 
 chissels to demolish as much of it as taste and 
 judgment claimed; and this without affectation, 
 for he is very disciplined, grave, and sensible *.' 
 " As we meet him frequently upon visits at other 
 houses, I look upon his peep at Kingsland as a 
 lucky ciroumstauce, from the marked notice which 
 he takes of me. Sn. Davies." 
 
 When Davies wrote his lines to Lord Anson 
 pon this enchanting spot, is not ascertained. — Per- 
 
 * This accomplished and most amiable man has been my host, 
 Shuckburgh. G.H. 
 
 haps 
 
l60 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 haps at a perioH not very distant from this. At all 
 events I insert them here. 
 
 TO LORD ANSON. 
 
 Thy course in various travel has been run, 
 O'er paths illumin'd by the rising sun. 
 Here, Anson, rest ; thy labour is no more; 
 Waves and the tempest recommend the shore. 
 See from this port the length of Ocean past, 
 Look from tliis Edtn to its dreary waste ! 
 Serene, enjoy the contrast of thy pains, 
 The burning sand, the aromatic plains. 
 Here to reflection thirsty deserts brought, 
 Here grov es of citron through the gales be caught ! 
 The boast of Europe and of Asia thine. 
 Their bloom and their decay for thee combine ; 
 The radiant splendour in Versailles display'd. 
 And the mild beauty in FrescatVs shade ; 
 Where fretted gold Elcaird's roof adorns, 
 And Btdbec lior majestic ruin mourns; 
 On the mainiM architrave in shrubs o'er-grown, 
 The living eagle soars in sculptur'd stone, 
 Jove in the wreck, still awful and sublime : 
 Barbarian rav.ige, and the worm of Time, 
 To charm thy view, restrain their havock's power. 
 Spare the rent pillars, and the falling tower; 
 Palmyra's columns to thy mansion guide. 
 And bid Minerva's Fane resume its pride. 
 
 Can thy l"nd wish beyond possession roam, 
 And sigii for Arts or Naturfe's charms at home ? 
 Can fam'd I'actolus grace a richer mead, 
 Or Tempe's lawn a softer carpet spread ? 
 
 May 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 161 
 
 May not that "broken pile's disorder'd state 
 
 Express id emblem all-consuming fate; 
 
 Recall in lov'd remains departed skill, 
 
 Grace the memorial, and the wonder still ? 
 
 Upon that storied marble cast thine eye. 
 
 The scene commands a moralizing sigh ; 
 
 Ev'n in Arcadia's bless'd Elysian plains, 
 
 Amidst the laughing Nymphs, and sportive swains, 
 
 See festal joy subside, with melting grace, 
 
 And pity visit the half-smiling face ; 
 
 Where now the dance, the lute, the nuptial feast, 
 
 The passion throbbing in the lover's breast ? 
 
 Life's emblem here, in youth and vernal bloom, 
 
 But Reason's finger pointing at the tomb ! 
 
 Yet, while thou may'st, enjoy, and love the bow'r. 
 With soul sedate above the passing hour, 
 Behold thy Oriental structures rise, 
 Though turban'd pride, and Sultans they despise ; 
 From servile climes their Grecian arts demand. 
 And rear Athenian domes in Freedom's land. 
 
 These lines, elegant, ingenious, and appropriate 
 as they are, come with a disadvantage against them 
 to me; for I was presented by Mr. Anson himself 
 at the time of my visit with a Poem on the same 
 topic, written by his neighbour and friend, the fa- 
 ther of this Lord Bagot, which I cannot enough la- 
 ment that I either mislaid, or gave or lent away, es- 
 pecially as I never could obtain a copy of them. — I 
 am pretty sure they exist ; but where they are now 
 deposited, I have reason to fear that it is under the 
 hermetical seal of his request, that no copy of them 
 should be taken. 1 recollect in particular the affect' 
 ing Episode of his Muse upon the "■ Et in .Ircadid 
 ego," to which Davies alludes. 
 
162 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 To resume the Bishop : — Amongst the papers at 
 Kingslund are two kind Letters, friendly and confi- 
 dential as if his brother had written them, from the 
 Bishop to his Chaplain, one of them in 1766. 
 
 Let us also resume Lord Qwiden. I have two 
 or three short Letters from him to his Eton friend, 
 which are proofs that his affection to him had not 
 cooled, or lost its youthful spirit. It appears too that 
 in the Letter of the Bishop, dated September I766, 
 he tells Davies he had just been to congratulate 
 the\r J'riend the Chancellor. 
 
 I shall give the Letters word for word as I have 
 them before me ; and shall then make a short com- 
 ment on them, reinforced by personal recollections. 
 
 LadT/ Knowles, in the kindest manner, shares my 
 zeal for the vindication of Lord Camden ; and rea- 
 sons well upon the calumny of supposing that he 
 was cool to his friend, who never complains of it — 
 and kept all his Letters, which breathed affection to 
 the last, 
 
 " Dear Davies, 3Im/ 1741. 
 
 " Your horse, your cyder, and your Letters, are 
 " all come safe, and I am in your debt upon the 
 " balance ^.3. 2^. 6d. The horse neither has 
 " been tried nor seen, though I dare say it will an- 
 *' swer ; your Letters are good ; and your cyder is 
 
 excellent; so that you have reason to be satisfied 
 " in every point. The cyder is approved, even more 
 " than perhaps you desire, when you read the con- 
 " sequence of its popularity. Mr. Page and his 
 " brother Sir Gregorij have urged me to intercede 
 *' with you for two hogsheads more ; and I was 
 *' pressed so earnestly that I could not refuse. How- 
 " ever, 1 told them it was not fair you should be at 
 
 such trouble gratis ; but that, in return, they 
 " should give me leave to introduce you as their 
 " guest when you shall come into these parts. This, 
 " if 1 know you and them, will be an ample reward. 
 
 " I have 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 *' I have not yet seen Hardinge since youi* last, 
 *' but can venture to answer for him, that he will 
 " assit^n his claim to me. 
 
 " Our Letters begin to be the correspondence of 
 " two merchants ; and I cannot advisee you better 
 " than to set up for a cyder-factor, and claim so 
 " much for commission, to learn accounts, and the 
 " art of drawing bills — nay, once in a winter to see 
 " your customers, and settle your accompts. 
 
 " As you are determined not to rise in the Church, 
 " what better way can you take to get money ; es- 
 " pecially as your Curate runs away with your sur- 
 " pi ice fees ? 
 
 " Where do you go in the summer ? If it is pos- 
 " sible, I will contrive to see you. If you go into 
 " Derbi/.shire, I can meet you there; if you remain 
 " at Kingsland, I will endeavour to make a third 
 '•' with Nai/lor and CornwaUis. 
 
 "Alas, my horse is lamer than ever ; no sooner 
 " cured of one shoulder but the other began to halt. 
 " He has two rowels in him, and must graze the 
 " whole summer. My losses in horseflesh ruin me, 
 " and keep me so poor, that I have scarce money 
 " enough to bear me out in a summer's ramble; yet 
 " ramble I must, if I starve to pay for it. 
 
 " Are you one of the seven voters who polled for 
 " your neighbour, Bryan Crowther? Poor man I. 
 " with all his honesty, good sense, and Jacohitistn, 
 "to get but seven votes! I conclude, from this 
 " fact, that he did not stand upon your interest, but 
 " was deserted by his good friends the Parsons. 
 
 " I am, dear Sneyd, yours most affectionately, 
 
 " C. Pratt." 
 
 " Dear Sneyd, Nov. 8, 1742. 
 
 " What good man is upon earth who is not in 
 "charity with you? lam — though you have no 
 M 2 " cyder 
 
1^4 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " cyder in your country, and though you never an- 
 " swered my Letter of last year ; nay, though you 
 " clubbed in writing the dull epistle which I received 
 " at Bath. 
 
 " I shall desire you in future to write separately, 
 " for this copulation of three Wits generates dullness; 
 " insomuch that, if I had not previously known, from 
 " a thousand proofs, that you had been three inge- 
 " nious men, this Letter would have ruined you rn 
 " my opinion. — There was not so much as nonsense 
 " in it, which I should have expected from the 
 "Archdeacon — or poetry, the least that you and 
 " Whuley should have sent. 
 
 " Are 3'ou so very bare of cyder that your county 
 *' will not produce one hogshead? 1 am sorry for 
 ** it ; but a few dozen would be far preferable to 
 "none. Try to carry this point forme, if it be 
 " only with a design to keep up something like a 
 " correspondence between us : for we are both so 
 " lazy, that unless a subject, which has at least the 
 " air of business, forced us now and then to write, 
 " we should never set pen to paper. 
 
 " Adieu. — If you will answer this Letter, I will 
 " behave better in future. 
 
 " Yours affectionately, C. Pratt."" 
 
 " April 29, 1744. 
 " Hard'inge has received his cyder. I received 
 " your Letter ; and though I intended every post to 
 " answer it, I perceive it yet unanswered. This is 
 " the case of all indolent men, such as you and my- 
 " self, that we defer business of slight concern, or 
 " of easy performance, because it may be done at 
 " any time ; and, for that very reason, it is very 
 " seldom done at all. But you find that even to 
 " answer a Letter, to look over a bill, &c. which 
 " could be dispatched at those very times without 
 " effort, become at last things of labour in your own 
 
 " imagination. 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 165 
 
 ** imagination. — So it is with me, and I have at last 
 " found it out ; I am angry with myself, and will 
 *' correct it. 
 
 " Nil actum reputans siquld superesset agendum, 
 " is the active diligence of some great General, I 
 " forget whom. — You are conversant in Classics ; 
 *' you can tell me of whom it has been said, and 
 " where the line is to be found. However, I would 
 
 recommend the example to your imitation. 
 
 " I have seen two epigrams of yours, and like 
 " them extremely; yet one* of them is in danger, 
 " for it begins now to be confidently said that Les- 
 " lock is innocent, but I pray heartily it may prove 
 " otherwise, for the sake of your verses. The Court 
 
 people will protect him if they can, in opposition 
 *' to Matheivs, who is no favourite of theirs. 
 *' Whether he is really innocent or not, I cannot say ; 
 " but the general cry is against him. 
 
 " Two Poems in blank verse, I cannot say Mil- 
 " tonic, have been lately published : one is called 
 " The Pleasures of Imagination the other is The 
 *' Art of preserving Health |. They have, both of 
 " them, their admirers ; but my churlish motto is, 
 " Nil admirari, in the literal sense. But the book 
 " most talked of at present is a pamphlet of Bishop 
 " Berkeley s upon The virtues of Tar-wafer, which 
 " he recommends as the universal medicine for all 
 " complaints. There is a deal of abstruse inquiry 
 " into the nature of air and fire, and the Lord 
 " knows what. It closes in some conceits upon the 
 " Trinity. You know how wild ingenious enthusiasts 
 " are ; but the book deserves to be read for the ele- 
 " gance of its style, a thing rarely met with in this 
 " age of bombast. 
 
 " C. Pratt." 
 
 * That upon Lestock and CornwaU. 
 t By Dr. Akenside. 
 X By Dr. Armstrong. 
 
 " Dear 
 
l€6 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " Dear Davies, Nov. 29, 1744. 
 
 " I beg your pardon for not having demanded be- 
 " fore this time the sequel of the verses addressed in 
 " your Letter to me. 1 am very much pleased with 
 
 all that I have seen, but at present the Poem is 
 " imperfect, and wants that finishing which is to 
 " bind up and crown the performance. Do not 
 " imagine that I shall be at all displeased with your 
 " panegyric on me, for this kind of elegant flattery 
 *' has always been allowed in verse ; and, for all Pope, 
 " is not half so unprincipled as a lie in prose. All 
 " such praise, by a kind of poetical charter, may be 
 *' given and received without blushing. 
 
 " As to your verses in honour to Knoll Hills, re- 
 " specting which Hardinge has written you many 
 " calumnies, — Naylor stole them, so that I beg you 
 " will not believe his insinuations that I am a care- 
 " less depositary of your verse. He hopes, I see, 
 " to displace me from the oflfice of General Receiver, 
 " and get himself appointed in my room. But I 
 " hope that he will fail in his attempt, and that you 
 " will never change a reader so candid as I am for 
 " one of his critical severity. 
 
 " Your caution to him, that I-should hear nothing 
 *' of your intended Opera, came too late. I knew 
 " it before, and will tell you at once, without reserve, 
 " that, as I am not at your elbow to instruct you in 
 *' the nature of musical poetry, you had better desist 
 " at present. 
 
 " Beforeyou can write for Handel, you shouldknow 
 " how long the performance ought, in strictness of 
 " rule, to be — the number and the talents of the 
 " singers, how many songs are to be made for each, 
 " and in what particulars they excel, whether in 
 " the soft or the wilder passions, that you may suit 
 " and may adapt the subject of each air to the genius 
 " of each performer. 
 
 " Then you must know the number of choruses, 
 " and in what parts they are to be inserted. 
 
 « These, 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 107 
 
 " These, besides other considerations, must be 
 " weighed and calculated before you think of writing 
 " an Opera. But, if you will come to London, we 
 " can easily put you in a way ; and I confess it would 
 " be like a new sense to ine, if I could hear good 
 " poetry and good music united. 
 
 " Lord Granville, you see, is out. The Oppo- 
 " sition are pleased, and the Parliament is just now 
 *' quite unanimous. But how long this harmony is 
 " to last I am not prophet enough to foretell. 
 
 " Where are your hares and your woodcocks ? — 
 " Where is my Lexicon ? you will say. To say 
 
 truth, I have not the heart after all to part with it, 
 " though I am sure that I have no further use for 
 " it ; but I will give you another, for I cannot pre- 
 " vail upon myself to part with my own, 
 
 " Yours most sincerely, C. Pratt." 
 
 The following is a copy of the Verses alluded to 
 in the preceding Letter. 
 
 T"o N. Haroinge, Esq. of Knoll Hills, 
 Derbyshire, 1748. 
 
 Hardinge, a native charm in ev'ry clime 
 Earth's varied scene displays : from Monti's Isle 
 Beheld, the distant amphitheatre 
 Of mountains, rock and verdure intermix'd, 
 With Siiowdoii's central spire, delights ; when I, 
 In pleasing rapture, on a Cromlech * sit, 
 Musing at eve. The time and place invite 
 My song ; for here the tuneful Druids pour'd 
 Blest orisons, and charm'd with mystic strains 
 Their oaken habitation ; or explain'd 
 
 * A Druidical Altar. 
 
 By 
 
168 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 By lecture high, the moral, social ties. 
 
 Here on their craggy seats, tribunal rude, 
 
 Shaded with awful misletoe, the Seers 
 
 In hallow'd chanc'ry sat, dispensing law. 
 
 Hither of old the dubious world repair'd, 
 
 From the Iberian or the Gallic shore, 
 
 For truths oracular and righteous doom 
 
 Appealing, nor deceiv'd : the Mede's decree 
 
 Less firm, less visited the Tauric shrine, 
 
 Aynmon or Ephesus, or Eldest Thebes. 
 
 But now no sainted thrones, or magic fanes. 
 
 Or groves this erst enchanted Isle adorn: 
 
 Where Inspiration, hid from vulgar eyes, 
 
 Her sacred orgies held, a desert lawn, 
 
 Dreary and bare, unletter'd hinds possess ; 
 
 Nor Wisdom now, nor Legislature reigns. 
 
 No carol cheers the wild, no hymns resound. 
 
 Save where the shepherd, on a rock forlorn, 
 
 The legendary tale or ditty sings. 
 
 Memorial of his brave, though conquer'd, sires, 
 
 By savage foe subdued; innate revenge 
 
 Yet rankling in his patriot heart, and fell 
 
 Inexorable rage, and steadfast hate 
 
 Of alien tribes ; — hence, prompted oft by guile 
 
 To lead bewilder'd travellers astray, 
 
 O'er shelves, and per'lous sands, and bogs impure. 
 
 Such greeting Mostyn found, puissant Knight! 
 
 Who, here a Saxon deem'd, by British wiles 
 
 Ensnar'd, the penance though to aliens due 
 
 Bore guiltless ; near o'erwhelm'd in surging seas, 
 
 With all his brav'ries trim, and liv'ried host, 
 
 At Penmon Rlios; though shining from his car, 
 
 His blazon'd shield, of Jrlhur's ancient stem 
 
 Boastful ; 
 
DR. SNfiYD DAVIKS. l6g 
 
 Boastful ; and look sincere, and genuine, hoarse, 
 Rough rhetoric, his true descent declar'd. 
 
 Sprung as I am from mountaineers, of pure 
 Paternal blood ; yet I to Monas sons 
 A lurking stranger seem, by English air 
 And food corrupted, by exotic lore 
 And arts debas'd, ignobly civiliz'd! 
 "With lowly diffidence, and modest awe. 
 Suppliant, I seek the colloquy benign : 
 They, with a keen suspicious leer, askance 
 Eye me, and look as if they fear'd a guest 
 Ambiguous, of an English mother born. 
 Nor wonder, if thus tempted by their foe, 
 A double-tongued apostate, they, inflam'd 
 With more than hostile fury, destine me 
 A victim to the shades of Heroes slain 
 By Saxon Lords. The Saxon yoke alone 
 Their Chronicles record ; the Norman sway 
 Too late is deem'd for Cambrian ire ; too late 
 77/j/ pedigree *, from Danish kings deriv'd. 
 
 But English thou ! by these monitions warn'd 
 If search of dark antiquity, or love 
 Of Nature's beauties, hither should allure 
 Thy wandVing steps, beware the jealous race, 
 Nor to the sisters of Parnassus trust. 
 Who sav'd not Orpheus from the jealous crew. 
 
 Content thyself in fair though humble scenes. 
 Thy secret Nola's t vale and verdant brow, 
 
 * An allusion to the descent of the Hardinges, traced (in joke) 
 to the Kings of Denmark, through their supposed affinity, and 
 partial resemblance in their coat of amis, to the House of 
 Berkeley. 
 
 t The Poet here deecribes that Elysian scene like a painter — 
 ui pirtura poesis. 
 
 Her 
 
170 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Her grotto's waving slopes, and pendant groves. 
 And lapse of murm'ring rills, reflecting gleams 
 Of lustre from the sun's meridian blaze ; 
 Nor less illumin'd when the mooo fuU-orb'd 
 Hangs o'er the mirrour down the shelving glade, 
 And glitters on the gently falling stream. 
 
 Enjoy thy cave's recess, Pierian shade, 
 And blissful mansion — here thy Lesbian Muse 
 Attend, here tune the magic shell amidst 
 The vocal bow'rs, and echoing Trent's applause. 
 Here feast when wrangling Senates* are at rest, 
 Repos'd on Laiian t flow'rs and Attic f thyme. 
 
 Perhaps I may here insert, with no unbecoming 
 prejudice of grateful and filial attachments, two 
 Rhapsodies of the Owner upon this favourite spot. 
 
 KNOLL HILLS, 
 Written in 1735. 
 
 Where lurks my cave's recess, my lov'd abode, 
 Near Trenta's playful stream, her bank, the road. 
 Bej'ond that rising dale with harvest crown'd. 
 Impending woods the secret nook surround. 
 Lead me, ye Muses, to the lov'd retreat. 
 Lead to Nolillida'sX inviting seat, 
 Where, by a fountain's gentle source supplied, 
 Down the soft bank still ebbs the silver tide, 
 
 * Mt. Hardinge was then First Clerk of the House of Commons. 
 
 f This charming verse contains an appropriate, as well as deli- 
 cate, eloge on Mr. Hardinge's classical pursuits, attainments, 
 and powers. 
 
 ; A burlesque poetical name for Knoll Hills. 
 
 Where 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 Where interwoven trees an arch have made, 
 
 And the sun trembles through the dusky shade. 
 
 Cheers the gay mead, adorns the tufted hills, 
 
 And ^heds new lustre on the falling rills. 
 
 Why should I ask the happy scene to change, 
 
 Or groves that Horace lov'd, capricious range, 
 
 Or ask, where, charming the poetic eye, 
 
 * Stretch'd beneath Woodhouse, ZJar/ej/'s f pastures lie r 
 
 Whence Darxvenf s flood to rocky Matlock roU'd 
 
 Laves the high shore, or where the Manifold J, 
 
 Kiss'd by the Dove^, in social rapture glides. 
 
 Or where smooth Faga (| leads her sportive tides ? 
 
 The rest has been mislaid. 
 The copy of the other Poem is complete. 
 
 KNOLL HILLS, 
 Written in the same year. 
 WhatclifTs projected brow, what cave's retreat^. 
 What bow'r shall hide me from the summer's heat ? 
 My ** indolence the shelter'd vale approves, 
 The tuneful streams, the deep-embosom'd groves. 
 Beneath cool steeps, in loftiest wood array'd. 
 Place and protect me with extended shade ft- 
 
 * The admired seat of Captain Morgan in Darley Vale. 
 f The vale of Darley near Chatsworth. 
 
 X A river which gushes out of a rock at Ilam (near Dovedale) 
 the seat of Mr. Port. 
 
 § The rivers of the Manifold and the Dove, having met under- 
 ground, rise together, and form one river in Mr. Port's garden. 
 
 II The H'lje, a rivei- in Derbyshire. — Philips, in his Poem upon 
 Cyder, gives that name to his IVye in Herefordshire. 
 
 % Spelunca;que tegant, et saxea procubet umbra. — Viugil. 
 ** Rura mihi et rigui placeant in vaUibus amnes, 
 Fkmiinaamem syh-asque inglorius. — Virgil. 
 Syhas inter tantum reptate salubres. — Horace. 
 \\ O, qui me gelidis in valhbus Hcemi 
 
 Sistatj et ingenti ramorum protegat umbr^ ? — Virgil, 
 
 This 
 
173 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 This was mtf wish * — Fate's pleasing gift — a farm 
 Not unadorn'd in rural beauty's charm ; 
 A garden, clean, though guiltless of parterre, 
 A sylvan shade o'erspread — a fountain near, 
 Whence fresh-distill'd perpetual water glides. 
 Whose glist'ring path its verdant slope divides; 
 Trees o'er the gentle precipice incline 
 Their social f tops, no creatures of design, 
 Roof'd by no art a pendent canopy I. — 
 Swift through that slope arcade my raptur'd eye 
 Ascends to yonder hills majestic round, 
 Wbere tufted saplings grace the landscape's bound. 
 Sleek to the sun their gilded leaf display, 
 Or to the winds reveal his latent ray ; 
 His influence pierces the meridian maze, 
 Cheer'd by his gleam, but shelter'd from his blaze. 
 
 May Knights and Barons, toil their pleasure, chase 
 The bounding stag, or vex the feather'd race ; 
 Calm be my joys, enchanting though serene, 
 Too proud for vice, though pure of cynic spleen. 
 
 Nor thou, companion of my youth, disdain, 
 Compliant Muse, to add thy wonted strain : 
 Sportive, yet chaste, resume thy lyric shell, 
 Nor cease to visit this Pierian § cell. 
 — And shall not here, where native Dryads rove, 
 A nymph of mortal race frequent the grove ? 
 
 * Hoc erat in votis : modus agri non ita niagnus ; 
 
 Hortus ubi, et tecto vicinus jugis aquae fons, 
 
 Et paulum sihse super his foret. — Horace. 
 f Umbram hospitalem consociare amant 
 
 Raniis. — Horace. 
 X A bank 
 
 Witli ivy canopied, and interwoven 
 
 With flaunting honeysuckle. — Milton's Comus. 
 ^ PitTxo recreatus antro. 
 
 Dare, 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 173 
 
 Dare, Celia, to despise * the pillar'd dome, 
 
 Nor scorn the lowly roof and rustic home. 
 
 An artless cottage, elegant f though plain t4 
 
 Me and a willing guest may well detain. 
 
 Arise — for us, my fair, a purer day, 
 
 Pledg'd by the morn, attends ; with me survey 
 
 What Pope or Ktnt may satisfied admire, 
 
 Or Pelhavi praise, and Burlington desire. 
 
 Come, o'er that close-fed heath's dry carpet stray. 
 
 Where flocks on monumental J hillocks play, 
 
 Or where the fount, in humid caverns fed, 
 
 Septemjluoiis ^ gushes from his latent bed. 
 
 Haunt of the Naiads || ; — They, incessant, pour 
 
 From copious urns profuse their liquid store : 
 
 Down leap their streams loquacious here they trace 
 
 Their way oblique**, and here, with bolder pace, 
 
 O'er many a native rock their surface break. 
 
 Or spread their modest brightness in a lake. 
 
 Lo ! where, inscribed with Pastorella's name, 
 Yon bank records enamour'd BurdetCs flame. 
 Flourish the beach, beneath whose ample shade 
 The Dane, perhaps, with Mercian damsels play'd. 
 Here may we sit, and woods or fountains praise, 
 In Georgic raptures, or /Eolian lays, 
 
 * Aude, hospes, contemnere opes. — Virgil. 
 f Sim]>lex mundiliis. — Mokace. 
 
 X Several ancient tumuli, where Danes, defeated in this 
 ))lace by the Mercians, are supposed to have been buried. The 
 j)lace is still called by the country people the Danes' Graves. 
 
 § A famous and singular spring which rose at Knoll Hills, and 
 went by the name of the Seven Springs or Seven Spouts. 
 
 II Nympliarum doams. — Viiigil. 
 
 ^ Ur.de loquaces 
 
 Lymphaj desiliunt. — Horace. 
 
 * * Obliquo laborat 
 
 ^ympha fugax trepidare rivo,— Hof.ace. 
 
 His 
 
174 ILLUSTRATIONS 0F LITERATURE. 
 
 His who enjoy' (1 repose near Anio's flood, 
 
 And roam'd with Lalage the Sabine wood. 
 
 O may I thus from cares, like him, retir'd. 
 
 Studious of ease, by no ambition fir'd, 
 
 Far from the Senate, faction's hateful seat. 
 
 Inglorious loiter in this nook's retreat. 
 
 *I nor Jlbuned's echoing grove require, 
 
 Nor grots responsive to the Latian lyre, 
 
 * In a Letter of the Author's to Lord Dacre, then Mr. Barrel, 
 and making the tour of Italy, this and another emendation are 
 explained a little more in detail. His words are: " I wish you 
 would visit the famous Tivoli, and the Jnio, if it were only 
 to settle the reading of two passages in Horace where he deli- 
 neates that scene. 
 
 Me nee tam patiens Lacedaemon, 
 Nec tam Larissce percussit campus opimae 
 
 Qu^m domus Albuneae resonantis, 
 Et praeceps Anio, et Tihurni lucus, et uda 
 Mobilibus pomariarivis. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Eripe te moras, 
 Ne semper udum Tibur, et Esulae 
 Declive contempleris arvum, ct 
 Telegonijuga parricidae. 
 " In the first of the passages I have had the boldness to read 
 ■nemits instead of (ioj«?<s, upon Fir^i/'s authority. 
 
 Lucosque sub alta 
 Consulit Albunea ; nemorum quae maxima t sacro 
 Fontesonat. — Vikgil, j^ln.VII. v. 82, &c. 
 
 " Ne semper udum, &c. I suspect this to be a false reading in 
 all the Editions and MSS. 
 
 " For, as Horace invites Mcecenas from Rome to his Tibnr, it 
 seems inconceivable that he should press him to make haste, 
 lest he should be always taking a view of Tibur. How much 
 properer would it have been to recommend his departure from 
 Rome that he might enjoy the scenes of Tibur. I therefore change 
 2V£ to VT. N. H." 
 
 Vt contempleris may be rendered that you may take a tiearer 
 view of, &c. which is the import of the word. 
 
 Mr. Phelps had written u))on this very passage a most inge- 
 nious Essay, which the Reader will «ee in the Appendix, as it 
 forms part of his first Letter to Dr. Davies. 
 
 f Horace too himself appears to intend this word in that short pictur* 
 of his villa— circa nemus uvidique Tiburis ripas. 
 
 Nor 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 3/5 
 
 Nor fam'd Praneste, nor the Baian coast, 
 Nor wliat sublimer scenes the Muse can boast. 
 Vies not that rising lawn witli Tihur's hill, 
 This trembling brook with cool Degentia's rill ? 
 To my pure stream BlandusicCs mirrour yields, 
 And all Campania to my velvet fields. 
 There, o'er the summit of surrounding trees, 
 A world of charms the curious gazer sees ; 
 TrejiVs wanton maze, and villages, and fanes, 
 The valleys half-conceal'd, or op'ning plains, 
 Here smooth declivities by wood embrac'd, 
 Here, in horizons lost, a distant waste. 
 
 Tempt me no more that scene to range, 
 
 Or with delight those wonders to exchange. 
 Though mountain summits oft aspire between, 
 Beneath a parching sun, with mantles green. 
 Though Darxcent there in wild meander flies, 
 Though Barley's Vale allures romantic eyes. 
 Though Matlock's verdant cliffs heav'n-born appear 
 To musing Fancy, what I seek is here. 
 
 But to return to Lord Camden : — 
 
 " Dear Sneyd, Feb. 28, 1744-5. 
 
 " How can you have good-nature enough to keep 
 " up so worthless a correspondent ! Your Letters 
 "unanswered! your Verses unpraised ! — yourself 
 *' treated with such disregard that nothing but 
 " your easy temper, unless 1 may add your persua- 
 *' sion that I love you, could prevail upon you to 
 " forgive me ! 
 
 *' I assure you that I have the most affectionate 
 " regard for you ; but my laziness, and my aversion 
 " to writing, are almost incredible. 
 
 " I am 
 
17^ ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " I am now going the Circuit, but I cannot leave 
 " with a good conscience unless I make my peace 
 " with you. 
 
 " In your last you gave me a hint that you would 
 ** like to see the pamphlets of the time. I am in 
 
 this article the most ignorant of men ; for I have 
 " not curiosity enough to read the common trash of 
 " the day ; and I do not think I have read five 
 " pamphlets in the last five years. 
 
 " The politics of the hour, as I gather them from 
 " conversation, are at present incomprehensible. 
 " The supplies in effect are granted. — Broad-bottom 
 " and the Pelhamites at present are one — but how 
 " long this junction is to last I despair even to guess. 
 " No Popular Bills, as they are called, are to pass 
 " during the Session. But the day before yesterday 
 " the House came to a Resolution that an inquiry 
 " should be made into the conduct of the two Ad- 
 " mirals in the Mediterranean. 
 
 " Lord Granville's friends are mute, and sit by in 
 " hopes of a quarrel between tlie new Ministers 
 " and the old, and they endeavour to sow dissention 
 " amongst them. The new men wish to carry some 
 " popular measures ; and the old ones are unwill- 
 " ing to weaken the Government by these conces- 
 " sions — an outward unanimity in votes, but much 
 " distraction of sentiment. However, as the main 
 " business of the Session, the Supply, is over, they 
 " will probably keep together at least this year. 
 
 " Thomson is going to exhibit a new Play, an 
 "extraordinary thing in these barren times; for I 
 " do not remember any period since the revival of 
 *' learning so deficient in good writers. 
 
 "Jack Naylor* \s in town, after preferment; 
 " but I fear he will dance attendance for some time 
 " longer. 
 
 " How are you inclined for a journey in Sep- 
 tember to the Isle of Anglesey? 
 
 * A King's College friend of them both. 
 
 " Our 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 " Our Summer Circuit falls late, and will not be 
 " finished, I fear, till the end of August — perhaps 
 " too late for a ramble. 
 
 " Poor Rees * ! 1 have to my shame forgotten 
 " him ; not in the article of preferment, which has 
 " not been in niy power, but in making the little 
 " collection for him, which I firmly intended; but, 
 " if yon will mention it when 1 come back, 1 will 
 " set about it. 
 
 " Farewell! — Service to Dr. Thomas and Crank. 
 " — Croivther is a blab. He told Mr. Harley that 
 *' I was only within a hundred yards of his brother's 
 " house, and I have been rebuked. I hope, as Lord 
 " Bateman is dead, that Shobden will be inhabited 
 " again. — Write soon, and your Letter will be for- 
 " warded after me. 
 
 " Yours affectionately, C. Pratt." 
 
 From this time there are no traces of correspond- 
 ence (amongst the Kingsland Papers) between these 
 two dear and pleasant friends, till Sept. I3, I760, 
 when Lord Camden was Attorney General ; and 
 then we find this Letter : 
 
 *' Dear Davies, Camden-place,Sept. 1.3, 1760, 
 
 " Though your cyder is a dsiWy memento that I am 
 a Letter ini/onr debt -j-, yet I confess, w ith shame, 
 *' that 1 have deferred my answei-ybr three weeks -f- j 
 " for, when it came to London, I was in Monmouth- 
 " shire upon a ramble. I heartily wish it may be in 
 " my power to do any thing for poor Rees Price. My 
 " Lord Keeper ^ is now, and has been for above a 
 " year, under promise to give me a Living for a Rela- 
 " tion of my own ; but has been so tardy in the 
 " performance, that I can scarce entertain the hope 
 " of his doing much for Pi'ice upon a new applica- 
 t , ■ ^ , 
 
 * Rees Price. 
 
 ■f This proves the corresponding habit between them. 
 + Sir Robert Heifleifa aft^rviards Lord Henley, and Lord Chan- 
 eellor, and finally Earl of "Northington'. 
 
 N " tion. 
 
178 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " tion. Nevertheless, 1 will try my interest with 
 him, though I cannot answer for the success. 
 " As for yourself, my old friendship and esteem 
 " for you will always preserve you in my thoughts 
 ^' without the aid of a memorundum*. But (iod 
 " knows whether I shall ever have interest or autho- 
 " rity enough to obtain Church Preferments. My 
 " friends at present have no weight in these dispo- 
 " sitions, as you well know ; and they who have are 
 " no friends to me. Times may change; and it is 
 " possible that I may be more considerable than I 
 " am at present ; but I am afraid it is probable that 
 " I shall not. Be this however as it may, and let 
 " Fortune deal with me as she thinks fit, 1 shall, in 
 " all conditions, remain, unalterably, your sincere 
 " and affectionate friend, C. Pratt." 
 
 " My dear Davies, September 21, \"6\. 
 
 " When I received your Letter, I threw it amongst 
 " a parcel of Cases, to be answered as soon as I re- 
 " covered from an ill state of health, which then 
 *' rendered me incapable of business. I am now 
 " got perfectly well, and should have answered your 
 " question in two or three days." 
 
 [He then gives him a Law opinion, lamenting that 
 " he cannot by a dash of his pen alter the Law for 
 " his sake," butwhich is "too stubborn ;" seep. 421 ■'\ 
 
 " Lincoln' s-inn-fields, Feb. 12, 1762. 
 
 " I remember you prophesied formerly that I 
 " should be a Chief ' Justice, or perhaps something 
 " higher. Half is come to pass. I am Thane of 
 " Cawdor; but the greater is behind ; and if that 
 " fails me, you are still a false prophet. 
 
 " Joking aside, I am retired out of this bustling 
 " world to a place of sufficient profit, ease, and 
 "dignity; and believe that I am a much happier 
 " man than the highest post in the Law could have 
 
 * Does not this appear to point at a memorandum as having 
 been made, though superfluous ? 
 
 " made 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 " made me. If I regret any thing, it is that I shall 
 " never now be able to promote you to the Reverend 
 " Bench of Bishops. 
 
 " I am a cloistered man; and, as you have now de- 
 " serted London, I shall never see you till I go the 
 " Oxford Circuit, and that I fear will not be soon. 
 " I wish that our lot had placed us nearer to one 
 " another. But I have been too much in the world, 
 " and you too much out of it, for conversation be- 
 " tween us. My love is the same towards you that 
 " it ever was ; neither time nor distance can make 
 " me, any other than., &c. C. Pratt." 
 
 " Dear Davies, Bafh, Jan. 8, 1764. 
 
 " I am so lazy, and so deeply inmiersed in 
 " the diversions of this place, that I have not been 
 " able till this blessed Sabbath to bestow a few mi- 
 " nutes on a reply to your Letter. 
 
 " 1 thank you for the verses *. The worst of the 
 " two copies pleases me the best, because it is flat- 
 " tering to myself. But the other is a fine perform- 
 
 ance, and valuable to eveiy body. These waters 
 " have perfectly restored my health ; and I begin to 
 " think I shall become a regular visiter to this place, 
 " where I shall entertain some hopes of meeting 
 " you now and then, since I despair of that pleasure 
 " in London. 
 
 " I would have you think seriously upon this sub- 
 "ject; for I do verily believe that solitude and 
 " the bashful shunning of company, have been the 
 " true cause of your indifferent state of health. — ■ 
 " My prescription therefore is, come hither every 
 " year, and write a good many verses when you are 
 " alone at Kingsland. I would advise matrimony ; 
 " but you are too far gone for that, and have lost 
 " your opportunity. — Farewell ! and follow my 
 " orders." 
 
 * What these verses are does not appear. Perhaps the Poem 
 an Caractacus forms one of the topics. 
 
 N 2 In 
 
l80 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 In 1766, Mr. Davies had a copy made of his own 
 portrait, and sent it as a keep-sake to Lord Camden. 
 He was by this time in town; and Lord Camden 
 writes to him this note : the direction is, 
 
 " Mr. Grove's, Park-place, St. James s-street. 
 " Dear Davies, April . . , ] j66. 
 
 " I delivered your verses to the old gentleman, 
 " and shall be p;lad to see you and the Bishop of 
 " Lichfield on Thursday. 
 
 " The old gentleman begs me to paste the verses 
 " on the back of his picture, near Mr. IVesfs in- 
 " scription. Camden." 
 
 " J% 7,1766. 
 " I am extremely pleased with your picture, be- 
 " cause it is like, and your gift. I shall be very 
 " glad to see you as often as you may contrive to 
 " call, either here or in the country ; and will take 
 " care to obey all your commands. — My time, 
 " however, is so awkwardly circumstanced, and my 
 *' avocations are so uncertain, that you may not al- 
 " ways meet with me, &c. Camden." 
 
 " Dear Davies, Lincoln s-inn-fields, May 12. 
 
 " I have inclosed and franked your Letter, and 
 " return you a thousand thanks for your picture, 
 " It shall be hung up by the side of old Camden, 
 " and the verses * shall be inscribed on the back, so 
 " that the same canvas will represent your genius 
 " and your person, and will remain a lasting me- 
 " morial of our friendship. 
 
 " My sittings begin to-morrow, and will last dur- 
 " ing the remainder of the week. This is the most 
 " fatiguing part of my office. After this, I shall go 
 " to Camden-place, where I shall be very happy to 
 " see you. Yours most sincerely, Camden." 
 
 * These verses will be given in a future page. 
 
 In 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 181 
 
 In the same year, Mr. Cambridge wrote an excels 
 lent quotation to him. 
 
 " S'/r Jo/in, thy tender lambkin now is King. — 
 " I give you joy, that your old, amiable, learned, 
 " and respectable friend is now Chancellor. 1 hope 
 " it is also very agreeable to you, that your Bishop 
 " continues, with the addition of the Deanry, &c. &c. 
 
 " Twickenham, July 31. R. O. Cambridge." 
 
 I have alluded already to a misunderstanding on 
 the part of Davies in 176G; but it seems to have 
 made no impression upon Lord Camdens mind, 
 who afterwards wrote this Letter to his friend, in 
 which I see nothing distant or cool : 
 
 " Dear Davies, yiug. 5, 1]6S. 
 
 " There is a little living vacant in your neigh- 
 
 bourhood, called Aymstrif. It is in my gift ; and 
 " perhaps, as the parish adjoins to your own, it 
 " may be worth your acceptance. Be so good as 
 
 to let me know if you like it. The benefice may 
 " be convenient for you, though the value is incon- 
 " siderable. It is not worth your thanks. Camden.'' 
 
 I took notice that in 1766 Davies's nerves, tem- 
 per, and spirits, were affected. This, I dare say, 
 was paralytic. I understand from Lichfield that he 
 was grown pale, and reserved. His picture de- 
 scribes him in perfect health, but with prominent 
 eyes, which are indications generally of irritable 
 nerves. — But I possess a Letter in the hand of Da- 
 vies, written at this period, and the copy, no doubt, 
 of his answer to the Chancellor. 
 
 Had the offer offended him, or had he then en- 
 tertained the idea that his friend had been previously 
 cool to him, he would have marked it in this reply, 
 which is temperate, respectful, and friendly. But 
 the hand is paralytic; and the characters, not easily 
 read, prove that all his energies were flown ; and the 
 turn of the Letter marks the decay of stamina, which 
 terminated in his death a very few months afterwards." 
 
 " Mv 
 
l82 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " My Lord, ^ug.f), 1768. 
 
 " Extremely obliged to you for having me in 
 your friendly thoughts, and should thankfully 
 have accepted your kind ofler of Aymstry Living, 
 " if my weak state of health permitted, which was 
 " the reason I did not apply to you for myself, when 
 " I took the freedom of writing to your Lordship 
 " last post in behalf of Mr. Evans, a most valuable 
 " man, and for whom I have the greatest respect. 
 " May I again repeat my earnest request, that your 
 " Lordslnp will be pleased to bestow it upon him ? 
 
 " Upon recollection. Lord Bateman will proba- 
 " bly ajiply, who has the best title to recommend. 
 
 In that case I by no means ask it. Mr. Evans 
 *' and myself are both of us obliged to his Lordship." 
 
 The answer was friendly, and in these words: 
 " Dear Davxes, Camden-place, Aug. I4, 1 768. 
 
 " I am very sorry your application for Mr. Evans 
 " comes too late. I am engaged to Lord Oxford, if 
 *' you refuse Aiimstrij. 
 
 " I should think you might serve it, by a Curate, 
 ^' without any inconvenience to yourself ; but you 
 " are the best judge. 
 
 " Your Licltjield Patron is gone to Lambeth. I 
 *' shall remind him of you, if your modesty should 
 *' be silent. Ca.mden." 
 
 In January of the next year, five months at the 
 most, he was no more. 
 
 As I never have been Chancellor, I am not at 
 home in the difficulties of reconciling patronage to 
 personal affections; but this I know, that Lord 
 Camden was not accused of deserting friends, though 
 he was often, to my knowledge, hampered, as in 
 the case of this Aymstry Living, by Peers, or men 
 of consequence, who lived in the neighbourhood of 
 tie vacant preferment. I can also recollect that he 
 gave Livings and Fiebends to men for whom he 
 could not have a tithe of the regard which he uni- 
 formly 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 formly expressed for his Eton friend. This may 
 appear to be an ili-omen'd apology for his apparent 
 inattentions to the Rector of A'/»g^.s7on</. But, if it 
 is fairly analyzed, it is unanswerable. It must have 
 arisen from circumstances which he could not over- 
 come; especially when I add, that Sleecli, a com- 
 mon friend of them both, was preferred by him. Per- 
 haps the apparent, or, occasionally, the real indif- 
 ference of Davies himself to any additional pre- 
 ferment, perhaps the observations which could not 
 fail to be made upon his enervated mind, upon his 
 age, and good circumstances, may have co-oper- 
 ated — when younger men who were necessitous 
 became (if they ever did become) his competitors, 
 and the influence of great men was thrown perhaps 
 into the balance in aid of those feelings. But I lay 
 great stress upon the absence of all proof that the 
 Bishop of Lichjield was piqued for his friend, as he 
 lived in constant intimacy with Lord Camden. In- 
 deed, it should rather seem that a shyness had there 
 also taken place ; for, I am now to mark a con- 
 firmation of Lord Camden's afllectionate reproof to 
 the modesty of his friend on the elevation of Curn- 
 wall'is to Canterbury, by a most pleasing fact of a 
 date just prior, in the difference of only two days. 
 
 It is a Letter of Mr. Richard Phelps, whom we 
 have dropped so long, and who, I should think, 
 had scarce ever stirred from town after 1763. It 
 shews the kindest aftection to his old friend, when 
 he had himself not more than two or three years 
 to live. He dates it, however, at Ross, in August 
 1768*. 
 
 * In this very month ofAugust he made his will. In six months 
 he was no more. It is pleasing to observe in his will a legacy to 
 Bichard Phtlps of a cornelian sealj set in gold, and representing 
 Shakespeare's head. 
 
 It 
 
184 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 It is in these words : 
 
 " My dear Doctor, Aug. 12, 1768. 
 
 " I heartily congratulate you upon your friend's 
 " exaltation to the See of Canterbury; suppose you 
 
 write him two or three words, by way of saying 
 " you are very glad. I suppose, till the necessary 
 "forms are passed, you are to direct. Bishop nj' 
 " IJchJield. My landlord desires me to send you hi.s 
 *' compliments and best wishes. Adieu, my worthy 
 *' friend. Most affectionately yours, R. Phelps." 
 
 N. B. In the hand-writing is also perceptible a 
 hint of his \_Mr. Phelps's] premature decay. 
 
 But the heart is young and amiable still *. 
 
 Though, in general, after the death of Thomas, 
 one has little of the Poet, and though, as I appre- 
 hend, he was more or less paralytic in the nine or 
 ten last years of his life; yet, upon the 1st of De- 
 cember, 1763, he resumed his vein, and wrote a 
 most elegant portrait of Mr. Adams's villa near Bath. 
 
 It is observable, that in this little Poem he has 
 left the M'lltonic measure, and falls with graceful 
 ease into rhyme ; perhaps because it was less diffi- 
 cult, and required less toil in thought or in the 
 measure. 
 
 But the native turn of his genius was rather force, 
 and weight of sense and of spirit, than of ornaments 
 like these — we shall call his first manner before we 
 have done with him. 
 
 In the mean time, what can be more genteel than 
 his lighter effusions? 
 
 Could not IValler have written the Poem an- 
 nexed, a little pruned in his conceits ? 
 
 * It seems to have been a delightful part of Mr. Phelps's charac- 
 ter that he gave himself no aiis, whether as a traveller, as accom- 
 plished in languages, or as a popular favourite and keeping the 
 best company in town, or as political for a lime, and the Secretary 
 of a Cabinet Minister. The simplicity and good humour of his 
 deportment aie often touched by his friend with due praise. 
 
 VERSES 
 
DR. S>JEYD DAVIES. 
 
 1S5 
 
 VERSES ON MR. ADAMS'S VILLA NEAR BATH. 
 
 Smile, Avon, in thy course, and flow with pride. 
 Not that aspiring villas crown thy side, 
 That airy piles the raptur'd view surprize, 
 That Fanes and Cities on the bank arise; 
 Less haughty, and more pleasing views appear — 
 Look nearer — nearer yet — the scene is here. 
 
 Smile, Avon, in thy course, and flow with pride ; 
 And, as thy currents mingle in the tide, 
 Ask the congenial rivers all their boast. 
 Or on the Latian bank, or Grecian coast ; 
 Ask Peneusy warbling in Thessalia' s field ; 
 Ask Arno^s Muse what charm her valleys yield. 
 And soft Ilyssus, in the tuneful shade. 
 Who points to names of glory now decay'd. 
 " Here, the pale envy of all-conquering Royne, — 
 *' That shrine to Theseus — there Apollo's dome. 
 
 Pensive he wanders through Athenian plains. 
 And whispers to the ruin mournful strains. 
 Hail, happier thou, through living wonders glide; 
 Flow, Avon, in thy course, and swell with pride *. 
 
 I have received, Jan. 11, 181G, a Letter from a 
 gentleman, who saiv and well knew Dr. Davies in 
 that same year I763, His Letter is very important 
 in its value to me, as it accounts for all the peculiari- 
 ties of the Doctor's deportment in 1766; confirms 
 the Bishop of Liclifield and Miss Seward ; agrees 
 to the expression of the portrait ; and marks, what I 
 
 * A whimsical incident followed this claim of the Poet upon 
 the river : for almost immediately after this composition was 
 written, tlie Avon had a very unusual flood, which of course, in 
 jest, made the Poet vain. 
 
 otherwise 
 
185 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 otherwise knew by the evidence of a most acute, in- 
 telhgent, and venerable witness, that in the declining 
 years of his life he was not in his perfect mind. The 
 substance of the Letter is, that he had a paralytic 
 stroke in I763, which left him enfeebled, but not 
 broke down, feeble in health and spirits, reserved, 
 and retired. He describes him as piqued that 
 Cornwall'is gave him only feathers, but no sub- 
 stance, and as having told the Bishop this remark ; 
 an assertion utterly unfounded, and a complaint ir- 
 reconcilable to letters in which he describes the same 
 Cormvallis in terms of the most grateful attachment 
 — irreconcilable to the delicacy of his (perfect) mind, 
 and the high spirit of his character. 
 
 Mr. Pennant has a description of Caer Caradoc. 
 It is a part of his Tour in fVales. 
 His words are these : 
 
 " It has from very remote times been traditionally 
 
 considered as a strong- hold of Caractacus. 
 
 " A society of gentlemen, struck with admiration 
 " of his virtue, met annually on the hill, to celebrate 
 " his name in prose and verse. 
 
 " In one year a gentleman, distinguished as much 
 " by his modesty as by his great ingenuity, inspired 
 " with the subject, almost instantly extolled the 
 " most brilliant part of the history of Caractacus in 
 *' the following lines, which I flatter myself will re- 
 
 lieve my long-suffering readers after the satiety of 
 " my U^'elsh pen, now hung up for ever." 
 
 Here, by the way, is a third instance of closing 
 a work by an extract from this Poet, and a high 
 compliment in honour to his genius. 
 
 Here too, as by Mr. TVilliam Duncomhe, his mo- 
 desty is not omitted in the subjects of ^lo^e. 
 
 I have 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES, 
 
 187 
 
 I have a Letter from the Rev. Mr. Archdeacon 
 Corbp.f, of Longnnr, addressed by him to Mr. 
 Kynusfon Powell, Knight of the shire for the county 
 of Salop, which throws more light upon this Poem, 
 and is admirably well written by a most admired and 
 respected person, as I have always heard from those 
 who are acquainted with him. I shall extract from 
 it what immediately relates to this Poem, with grate- 
 ful thanks to him, as well as io Mr. Poivell, who 
 recommended my wishes to his attention. 
 
 " Hear Sir, Longuor, Dec. 26, 1815. 
 
 " The late Rev. IFlUiam Russell, originally of 
 
 SidU'if Hai/es, not far from Caer Caradac (or the 
 *' Caerdoc Hill), afterwards of Overton in FUnt- 
 " shire, and who died some years ago at Chester., 
 " was supposed by my father to have instituted the 
 " Caractacan meeting, by making parties to ascend 
 " the hill, where they partook of a cold collation, 
 " and where Mr. Read, the Rector of Munsloiv, 
 " made an oration in honour of Caractacus one 
 " year, and perhaps other gentlemen spoke at other 
 
 times. The dinner at the top of the hill was soon 
 
 discontinued ; and the encouragers of the meeting 
 " ascended the hill before dinner, but returned to 
 " dine at the Bowling-green House at Longnor. 
 
 " Dr. Davies called at this inn upon one of the 
 " days of meeting ; and, hearing the purport of it, 
 " composed for the next year some verses, which he 
 " transmitted, and which were then, and for many 
 " succeeding years, recited by some one of the com- 
 " pany before dinner. 
 
 " Your Letter led me to see what positive informa- 
 " tion I could add to the general idea which 1 had 
 " formed upon the subject. 
 
 " Dr. Davies's verses were recorded in letters of 
 " gold upon a black frame hung up in the Bowling-. 
 " green house at Longnor. When that ceased to 
 " be a public house, they were brought to Longnor 
 ''Ball. 
 
 " When 
 
188 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " When 1 fitted up a court-house for the manors 
 " of Sydlei/ and Cardington, within which is the 
 " Caerdoc, I removed the verses thither. 
 
 " The only inscription which they bear is Carac- 
 " tacus, 1757. I conclude, t; erefore, that was the 
 " year m which they were composed. 
 
 '* The meeting could not then be of long stand- 
 " ing. Mr. Russell, the founder of it, was born in 
 " 1733 ; and though all who remember him will give 
 " him praise for inventing schemes of amusement at 
 " an early age, yet, as he would be only 24 years of 
 " age in I757, there had not been, I should think, 
 " many returns of this celebration of Caractaciis 
 " prior to that year. 
 
 " Mr. f^f lldirig, All Stretton, informs me, that 
 " the first meeting at the top of Caerdoc was called 
 " by Mr. John Russell, of Enchmarsh, a person of 
 " some c?tate within the manor. He was High 
 " Constable, and summoned the Petty Constables 
 " of the Hundred of Munslow to meet him at the top 
 " of the hill, where he directed an Innkeeper from 
 " Church Strelton to bring cold meat and liquor. 
 " This probably suggested the idea to Mr. Russell * 
 " of Si/dley Hayes, of establishing an annual meet- 
 *' ing. JosErH Corbet." 
 
 AU Rome n-as stiil — the Nation stood at gaze ; 
 Forth came the mighty Chief, august in chains, 
 Unbroken, unsubdued ; — his lofty air 
 Stern as in field of battle ; round be look'd 
 With steadfast glare, a lion in the toils. 
 Yet mindful of bis fate — to Casafs throne 
 He bow'd majestic, and majestic spoke : 
 
 * This gentleman, as Mr. Archdeacon Corbel reports, died two 
 years ago, at near 100 years of age, and married a second wife at 
 past 00 I 
 
 " Had 
 
DR. SNEYD DA VIES. 1 8^ 
 
 " Had moderation sway'd my prosp'rous days, 
 " Rome had beheld me Cafsat\s guest and friend, 
 " Nor blusli'd, for I am of a scepter'd race 
 *' That rul'd Britannia's independent Isle 
 " Beyond all annals of recording Fame. 
 
 " If Rome commands, must vassal worlds obey f 
 " What ! not resist ? — The undefended rights 
 " Are vanish' d — cowards only are your slaves. 
 " Yes, I bad arms, and wealth, and friends, and famej 
 " What? — tamely give them up ! disgrace indeed 
 " That I so long withstood your baffled powers 
 " Forgive me, Roman virtue, that offence. 
 " Had I a cheap, an easy conquest prov'd, 
 " My ruin and your glory had been less ; 
 •* Oblivion soon had veil'd my dastard name, 
 " Unworthy Casafs triumph : death or life 
 " Are at his dread disposal : that or this 
 " I neither fear to meet, nor scorn to ask." 
 
 " Yes, noble Captive," said the Lord of Ronu, 
 " Thy life is sacred, and thy freedom seal'd. 
 " My sole ambition, soaring high, requires 
 '* Around banners and triumphant cars 
 " To bear thy valiant Country's glorious name." 
 
 He spoke, and thund'ring acclamations rung, 
 .Shouts that half rent the Capitol proclaim'd 
 " Imperial mercy to the gallant Foey 
 All eyes were put in wonder ; some admire 
 His front erect, broad limbs, and martial port; 
 All, the unwearied valour that had cop'd 
 With Roman prowess, and well nigh prevail'd. 
 Not bold Juguriha, nor the Syrian King, 
 
 Nor 
 
IgO ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Nor Persia's, 'reft of Alexander's crown, 
 Attracted more regard, or gazing awe : 
 Ev'n Claudius, in liis radiant seat sul>lime, 
 The world's great master, with his legions fierce 
 And gliti'riiig eagles, with his trophied pomp 
 And pride begirt, look'd little on his throne. 
 
 Brave Caradoc ! applauded by thy foes, 
 What shall thy friends, thy grateful Britons, say 
 To thee what columns and what shrines are due ! 
 Thrice told five hundred courses of the sun. 
 Thy age is green, thy laurels fresh in leaf. 
 Still on thy \vell-foug!)t hill, whose stony brow 
 O'erlooks the subject plains, the gen'rous youth 
 Gladsome repair with annual flow'r and song. 
 And festal music, to record thy praise. 
 But whither fled is thy heroic fame? 
 If aught regarding this dull orb of earth, 
 Boils not thy wrath, and chafes not thy renown. 
 To see the rivals of all-conquering Rome, 
 Thy hardy Britons, foil'd by tinsel France? 
 Imagination frowning pictures thee 
 With featur'd veneration, scorn, and shame — 
 Henries ! and Edwards ! thunderbolts in war. 
 Where is the lion-heart, and sweeping sword, 
 That purpled .<^^mcw?'^, and C/ m^/'^ field ? 
 Assist — inspire our host ! But chiefly thou, 
 The champion-guardian. Genius of the Isle 
 Hover around our tents, thy lance in air 
 Direct, and spread the visionary shield : 
 Call — rouze thy countrymen — to arms, to arms 
 Ye antient Bards, ye mystic Druids, hail ! 
 Prophetic transport seizes me — I see. 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 1.01 
 
 Though dim in prospect, from this craggy height, 
 
 Unrolling clouds illuminate a scene 
 
 Of joy and triumph ! — Hark — they shout — I see 
 
 Britannia's Trident vindicate the main, 
 
 Her colours waving in Coliunbian skies 
 
 Victorious — Peace returns, and Albion smiles ; 
 
 Proceed, ye Britons ! mark the kindled fire 
 
 In this unwarlike breast — my vet'ran Muse 
 
 Shall march along in spirit-breathing strain, 
 
 Sound her Pierian trumpets, to awake 
 
 Her sleeping Country, and her laurel'd hand 
 
 A wreath shall bear to grace the Victor's brow. 
 
 Character of Dr. Davies. 
 
 Arcadian simplicity vvouki be one ruling feature 
 of Dr. Davies's life and manners, if the Arcadians 
 had but a pipe for smoking, as well as a musical one- 
 He mentions, in one of his Letters, that Lady 
 IVilliams told him "he knew the world as if he had 
 never lived in it." 
 
 I am happy again to borrow the words of Lady 
 Knoivles : " Whether it is from their abstracted no- 
 " tion of things or not, it has often been said, and 
 " proved as a fact, that Scholars are not men of the 
 " world in their manners and their opinions. 
 
 " As travellers, who overlook the beauties of their 
 " own country, to expatiate with enthusiasm on the 
 " attractions of a distant clime; so these men of 
 " science, and of literary taste, fond of solitude and 
 " of study, are often deficient in the common usages 
 " of the world, and in the knowledge of the human 
 " mind, which can only be obtained by collision 
 " with men." 
 
 All 
 
192 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 All the little sjiurs of ambition, or of public life, 
 to the gentle spirit and most affectionate nature of this 
 amiable man, were desultory and occasional. The 
 domestic and prevalent habit was either sohtude, or 
 a society of individuals not likely to expand the 
 energies of the mind, like the commerce of the 
 world. 
 
 His darling friend was a good scholar, but station- 
 ary and recluse, indolent at home, and with no ap- 
 parent energies abroad, except as a huntsman or a 
 bowler. He was fond of good living, but in a re- 
 tired way, ignorant of the world, and crippled by 
 College-habits of self-indulgence,* 
 
 As a part of this native simplicity in the Rector of 
 Kitigsland, we must not overlook a readiness to be 
 deceived, and .t kind of literal nedulity reposed in 
 the words or the actions of his friends, whom he 
 often injured by overstraining the import and pledge 
 of their zeal for him, expressed in language of en- 
 dearment, which is half poetical, and should never 
 be taken an pied de la lettre. 
 
 His modest )j was of no common degree or kind ; 
 he by no means undervalued his powers; and I am 
 not sure whether, from ignorance of the world, he 
 did not miscalculate their extent, or at least their 
 application. He was disinchned habitually to what 
 is called business ; had no talent for accoinpts ; had 
 no taste for the polemics of the Church, or public 
 display of any kind ; was never so happy as in 
 smoking, laughing, and writing verse; but, I dare 
 say, thought himself equal to the highest of all de- 
 partments in his own profession. His jOoef/c«Z talent 
 had been so flattered, that, if his friends cvuld have 
 made him vain of any thing, it would have been 
 there. Yet such was his bashfulness, and his timi- 
 ditif, that nothing but his compassionate zeal for a 
 suilering acquaintance and friend would have enabled 
 us to know that he could write a verse. 
 
 He 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 193 
 
 He had a modesty of another kind, which opera- 
 ted as a defect, and as a misfortune. A man of so 
 elegant a mind would have delighted in the society 
 of accomplished and well-bred women, if he could 
 ever have reached them. But they are never dreamt 
 of in his ■philosophy ; and he appears to have been an 
 old bachelor all his life, in dropping the other sex, 
 as if they formed no part of the world around him. 
 
 In his verse, except the Epithalamium upon Mr. 
 Dodd's marriage, there are no compliments to the 
 fair sex, no raptures in description of their beauty 
 and their grace. Here was at least one source of in- 
 spiration to his fancy and spirit as much withheld as 
 the objects of sight are lost upon those who are blind. 
 
 But he had modesty of another kind, tliat was ab- 
 solute heroism. He associated with convivial men, 
 some of whom had little delicacy in their man- 
 ners and their habits. But he was their abdict, and 
 led a sainted life amongst them whilst he enjoyed 
 their wit and good humour. 
 
 As to the Rector of Presteigne, any Horace of 
 his day might have been tempted, unless traditions 
 and collateral documents lie, to address him thus : 
 Ne sit ancilliE tibi amor pudori! * 
 
 You understand me, but the ladies are not in 
 the secret. They may consult, however, the trans- 
 lation either of Mr. Duncomhe or Dr. Francis. 
 
 I have mentioned that I can trace no attachment 
 of Davies to the fair sex. 
 
 Lady IVilUams, wife to the King of North 
 fVales (and who reigned in the noblest of all domi- 
 nions — in the heart) appears to have been much in 
 habits with him, and left him a legacy of ^lOO. 
 
 I have discovered a most ludicrous anecdote, 
 which combines the modesty and simplicity of his 
 character. I cannot relate it better than in the 
 words of my Historian. 
 
 " One day, upon his return from a visit, a lady, 
 " who was visitor too, solicited the vacant seat in his 
 * Hor. 1 Od, iv, 
 
 o " carriage^ 
 
194 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " carriage, as far as to her door, in his way back to 
 *' Kbigsland. Though secretly disconcerted, neither 
 " good humour nor good manners permitted him to 
 " refuse. When he drew near the town where he 
 " was to lose and spill his companion, afraid of the 
 " gossiping zeal which propagated and accepted 
 " reports where sex was concerned, he thought it 
 " most prudent and sagacious to disarm raillery of 
 " its aim by eluding observation. He therefore 
 " drew lip fiJs blinds /" 
 
 The cunning of the Ostrich is not more ludicrous. 
 
 His ambition was an artificial impulse ; his genu- 
 ine passion was for just the habits that accident ar- 
 ranged for him — solitude and a Jew selected friends. 
 — \w friendship he was above all praise; generous, 
 engaging, and firm to all his youthful attachments. 
 Except the Rector of Presteigne, they were all of 
 them school and college friends. He lost none of 
 them ; all admired, revered, and loved him to the 
 last. The partiality of his pleasant habits with 
 them reconciled all the differences of their style in a 
 centre of union with him. 
 
 Lady Knowles often has drawn his character as it 
 appears to her in his Letters. They are breathing 
 features of his mind. " You will join with me," she 
 tells me, " in admiring all the minor acts of his 
 " friendship. So warm and so affectionate, yet 
 " maintaining so just a balance, he attached every 
 " human creature to him, high and low. It is much 
 " to be lamented, for his own improved interest when 
 " living, and for his memory when the curtain fell, 
 
 that he did not let the world hnow him, and love 
 " him. They were synonymous terms *." 
 
 He had weak health and weak nerves, but manly 
 thoughts and a high-spirited mind. When he said 
 
 * See, in p. 11, the beautiful verses written by this Sister- 
 Ent)iusi:ist for Davies. — What noble creatures women are ! — I 
 believe this lady had not written a vei-se before I saw her a few 
 months aijo, unless mere vers de society, and see how elegant a 
 xein her feelings have displayeil ! G. H. 
 
PR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 195 
 
 that even the acceptance of preferment was a barter 
 of 'the sou/, he felt the sentiment with ingenuous and 
 perfect honour. 
 
 But when he so/ kited preferment at a later period, 
 which he certainly did, it was not avarice or caprice^ 
 but a new turn of his mind, when it became enfee- 
 bled by age and by irritable nerves. He did not 
 want, and he could not have enjoyed, any addition to 
 his fortune. It was ample enough to give him every 
 comfort, and gratify all his wishes. But his friends 
 were importunate, and he was the dupe of their 
 generous partiality for him. It appears from a Let- 
 ter to him, 1759, that he had entertained hopes of 
 being elected a Fellow of Eton College. 
 
 The little change of scene which his incomparable 
 frieuil the Bishop of Lichfield obtained for him was 
 delightful, and was just enough to animate or to in- 
 terest him by the variety without prejudice to his 
 general habits ; but it is clear that he offered himself 
 to that Patron. 
 
 1 think it was no infelicity, but the reverse, that 
 he died when he did, and just after the Archbishop 
 obtained the See, because I am convinced that any 
 thing like a public scene would have quite overset 
 him, and would have thrown him into a perpetual 
 lever, the bane of enjoyment. 
 
 It is impossible to conceive a mind that was more 
 superior to artifice ov flattery. The lines of I743 to 
 Lord Camden are as manly as they are encouraging ; 
 and those of IjGG, which are more in the vein of 
 homage, are proofs only that his taste was ener- 
 vated, not that his heart was touched by the world. 
 
 Of his Poetry the Reader will judge for himself. — 
 The beauties of it are dignity of thougfit and phrase, 
 elevated conceptions in tuneful numbers, and the 
 command of poetical phrase. 
 
 The general defect is, that it v/ants a little more 
 ease, fluency, and grace of dishabille. I observe, 
 and it certainly is a defect, no pathetic tenderness, 
 no elegiac delicacy of sorrow — yet a more feeling 
 o 2 heart 
 
196 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 heart no man ever possessed. Upon IFhaleys death 
 he excluded all the world for a time. 
 
 His Letters, to my impressions at least, are just 
 what Letters of an accomplished and gifted mind 
 should be, — elegant, and familiar too, lively and 
 chaste, affectionate without parade of sensibility, 
 and social without negligence of decorum. 
 
 I hear from those who are living, that his manner 
 of preachins was impressive, though delivered in a 
 subdued and gentle tone. 
 
 No breath of calumny has imputed vice to him of 
 any kind, or the absence of any virtue in domestic, 
 social, and moral intercourse. 
 
 He had a comic vein, but (like all the rest of him) 
 very original and peculiar, more accidental than ha- 
 bitual, and calculated for no effort but that of pro- 
 moting innocent good humour. With a power of sa- 
 tire, proved enough by the lines on B , and 
 
 upon Lestoc]{, he seldom indulged it, and seemed 
 as much afraid of intemperate censure, as of lavish 
 praise. At one of his pleasant meetings with Lord 
 Camden he wrote a ludicrous, but shrewd, portrait 
 of his friend. It is preserved in his own hand, and 
 is countersigned by C. P. the hero of it. It was in- 
 tended for IVhaleii, but not sent. 
 
 Half jest, and half earnest, there are traits of si- 
 militude in it which I can attest, as exemplified in 
 the Hero when he was not in tune for that mirth 
 which in general he enjoyed. 
 
 Pratt oddly is made ; 
 
 For, when vex'd out of measure, 
 He calls Spleen to his aid, 
 
 And is pleas'd with displeasure. 
 Stranger yet his disease. 
 As I know to my cost; 
 For the most you displease 
 
 When you please him the most. 
 Excuse seriousness. S. D. 
 
 C. P." 
 Rees 
 
DR. SNEYD D.WIES. 
 
 1.97 
 
 Rees Price, a harmless old man, but fond of 
 drams and good living, in general seeiiis to iiave in- 
 terested botli Davies and his friend at Presteigne hy 
 simplicities of mind. He was, like fJlll. Whimhle, 
 officious in good offices of a minor cast, and grate- 
 fully accepted in return for theui hospitable dinners. 
 To men of talent and wit these are pleasant appen- 
 dages ; and, like the Jesters of Kings in early days, 
 now and then can be a little arch. They could 
 laugh at Rees Price with impunity ; but their laugh 
 is never insolent or overbearing in its raillery; and 
 they speak of him, as well as to him, with friendly 
 affection. 
 
 In a loose paper I observe this note in Davies's 
 hand : 
 
 " Annotation on a passage in Epictetiis' (which 
 Dr. Thomas, by a singular taste, was turning into 
 verse). 
 
 " A Fact. 
 
 " Rees, in a violent hurry, took the ferule of his 
 " walking-stick, which had become loose, to a Tuy- 
 " lor, who was to mend it." 
 
 Little strokes of humour appear scattered in the 
 letters and scraps of notes to his friend, such as this: 
 
 " Gilt, because no other paper in the house — pride 
 " of poverty r 
 
 I have an excellent performance of Latinized 
 English, which is a model of its kind. 
 
 " Cum hactenus summa felicitate viarum et coeli, 
 hac nocte solus apud Bon, scnbam occurrentia et 
 cursive in itinere. Imprimis grates ago, deind^ do- 
 leo, vel, ut AngUce aiunt, mille est niisericordiae, te 
 non potuisse simul ire : hujus mentinnem f cio, nsei 
 przecipu^, et nonnihil tui causa. Redii ad Lestr. 
 nocte Jovis invitus, at necessario, ut rotas contra- 
 herem, ad insigne Alhi Leonis, hospite Smith 
 Hopsono Cestriens. cum quo ccenam Longumque 
 colloquium habui — viro rationaliter comico, qui pro 
 me, et pro meo judicio in vehiculis et in caLallis, 
 
 maxinuim 
 
198 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 maximum habet respectum ac defcrentiam. Sublvi 
 Castell. de Haicarden — reverenter suspexi, movique 
 cuculium. Humanissimi sane sunt Antiquarii, qui 
 labantia et ruinas colunt. Ad Flint, villatam satis 
 elegantem, commeatu destitutam, quam mare alla- 
 bitur, cui Castellum turribus circuitu latissimis, sed 
 non excelsis. Ipse de muro descendi, ipse in arena 
 steti ; sobriam indulsi reveriam de fato Rkardi Se- 
 ciindi, et rerum humanarum vicibus. Haec scrib- 
 blavi, nee afFectatione, nec vitatione Latlmtatis An- 
 glicce, nec, ut tu soles, abbrevio, ut planius, etsi 
 brevissiuium, intellexeris. In eodem diversorio fuit 
 Griffith, Preb. de Cant. Ita me D. &c. malim ob- 
 scurus, et inter amicissimos virum ire, quam cum 
 illo et mitra domum." 
 
 In one of his notes : 
 
 " I could not smoke with serenity, much less go 
 " to bed, till I had set you right." 
 
 " Oct. 27, 174S. 
 
 " M}' wooden horse is arrived — an excellent ma- 
 " chine for exercise, a kind of go-cart, or hobby- 
 " horse, for the adult and the lazy. I jogged out a 
 " Sapphic or two upon it, but it is not a Pegasus.'' 
 " Feb. 8, 1739-40. 
 
 " Before this humour had well run off, I was at- 
 
 tacked by- another, which I will call a versifying 
 " dejiiixion. The latter malady continued working 
 " in my pate, as the former had previously done, all 
 " Monday and Tuesday ; on M'^ednesday it ceased. 
 " What flowed I took special care to preserve, and 
 " send enclosed for the Doctors opinion. 
 
 * * * " I much question whether one ought, in 
 
 prudence, to be ambitious of passing for a Poet — 
 " a man who would thrive had better be thought and 
 " called the reverse.'' 
 
 His politics were like those of a secluded man, 
 conversant in the opinions of tliose with whom he 
 was the most in habits. He called himself a Whig ; 
 but seems to have imbibed prejudices of Tory-isni 
 
 from 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 from JVorfh IFales, and I should guess in part from 
 tlie Rector of Presteigne, icho came from Christ 
 Church ! All his violent spleen against the accept- 
 ance of preferment was Toni language in those davs, 
 though he has bantered it well himself in a most 
 admirable epigram, which I will here introduce; 
 though, if it was not for Priors example of the ladle, 
 I should fear to lay it before you ; but, as our neigh- 
 bours admirably express it, le papier souffre tout. 
 
 Says Watkin to Cotton, " I thought, my Lord Gower, 
 " Foil told us, intended to leave us no more." 
 Says Cotton, " He has not." Pays fVatkin, " You lie ; 
 " And you too, grave Sir, have a place, by the bye — 
 " I thought all your boasting would end in a farce: 
 " Pray where'syoar broad-bottom?" SaysCo//on," 
 
 The last act of his life does him so much honour 
 that I introduce it with pleasure in bidding farewell 
 to his amiable and pleasing character. 
 
 He bequeathed his Rectory of Kingslanci, and all 
 his fortune, to 3Ir. Evans, whom he had patronized 
 at College, and who was the father of three sons, 
 now living : one of them has the [\ectory, and has 
 in the kindest manner communicated the copious 
 materials for this Report of liim, which my zeal for 
 his character has tempted me to undertake with en- 
 thusiasm, which its failure could not make me re- 
 pent ; and which has deliL^iufuUv occupied the half- 
 slumbering hours of an old age, young enougli still 
 to admire the wise, and love the good. 
 
 Farewell, best of Patrons and Friends. 
 
 I think Da\ies had better close your volume, 
 after other intermediate Lives. 
 
 I have picked up more Dariesiana. Like Wrav, 
 he is too little known. 
 
 Ever yours, Geokge Hardinge. 
 
 Plarch 14, lSl6. 
 
[ 200 ] 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 I am distressed, in the Dav'iesiana, by the inordi- 
 nate volume of new intelligence, and the fear to 
 overwhelm the candour of the Reader, My late 
 acquisitions entangle me with their wealth, and I 
 almost wish to he poor again. 
 
 I have made a discovery. 
 
 I had occasion to intimate, that, when at Eton 
 school, the boy gave hints of the man. Some of his 
 Eton poetry has been laid before the Reader. But, 
 in a manuscript from Kingsland, for which I owe 
 my affectionate thanks to the Rev. Mr. Evans, the 
 Rector's brother, I observe a Poem so excellent as to 
 , merit copying; and the more, since I have discovered 
 that it is published in the first volume of the Musce 
 Efonenses, a collection printed in 1755; and which 
 first volume is represented by the Editor as contain- 
 ing only the verses that, according to the Eton 
 phrase, well understood by the Etonians, icenf up 
 for the play, one of the highest honours there con- 
 ferred upon the youthful Poet of the day selected 
 from the rest. 
 
 In the manuscript it is dated August 1727. He 
 was therefore 18 years of age, and very near his de- 
 parture to College, when it was written. 
 
 There is a powerful spirit of moralizing thought in 
 it, and of picturesque effect in language, very un- 
 common for those years. 
 
 " Res est sacra miser." 
 Quis mentem JEacidee subito novus occiipat horror? 
 Cur trepidant foedi nescia corda metCis ? 
 
 Ferrea 
 
Ferrea in humentes liquuntur peclora guttas, 
 
 Ut rupe ex dura flere videntur aquoe. 
 Rex miser et senior qua majestate verendus 
 
 Projicitur ssevi principis ante pedes ! 
 Nil manet augustse regali in fronte tiara;, 
 
 Splendidus a;rumnis pulvere fcedus adest. 
 Ipse habitus, — gestus, oculi, sine voce loquuntur, 
 
 £t causam dicunt, Hector adempte, tuam. 
 Non ea vis animo est Pelidis ut ante superbi ; 
 
 Et rabiem Eumenidcs dededeceresuani. 
 Quid mirum ? valet iste dolor tetigisse hiaenas, 
 
 Et mulcere angues, torva, Medusa, tuos. 
 Quern non iniperiis jigaviemnon flexit eundem, 
 
 Stratus humi et supplcx in sua vota regit. 
 Accedit proprius decor, et sua forma dolori ; 
 
 Ipsa ":erit veneres cana senecta suas. 
 Majestas animi fatis invicta superbit, 
 
 Et casu ex ipso pulchrior evehitur. 
 Haud aliter Marii stetit imperterrita virtus 
 
 Torva tuens gladii terruit ore niinas. 
 Qui vuitus ? quales oculi ? nec inermis in illis : 
 
 Armat'cE in caedem contreniiiere manus. 
 Fulguris afflarint ardentia tela ; — bidental 
 
 Relligiosa sacrum terra piare valet. 
 Nec mintis ille sacer qui fatis Iseditiir, etvi 
 
 Sustinet adversa. fortiter esse miser. 
 Effulget virtus in clade illustrior ipsa, 
 
 Impavidumque decet spreta ruina ducem. 
 Sic WcetEois Titan emergat ab undis 
 
 Pulcher ubi croceum fundit in exidium, 
 Non tamen occiduae cedens in vespere luci, 
 
 Major in oceanum splendidiorque cadit. 
 
 There 
 
202 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITER ATURr. 
 
 There is a very humourous collection of Letters 
 in the second volume of" The Repository," published 
 in 1777. The title is, " Origines Divisian^, or the 
 ANTiauiTiEs OF THE Devizes, in familiar Letters 
 to a Friend, in I750 and 1751, by Dr. Davies ; first 
 printed in I754." 
 
 The Letters are nine. 
 
 I was informed, upon authority which I cannot 
 resist, that Sneyd Davies, unquestionably, was the 
 writer of them. 
 
 As they occupy several pages, and contain ridicule 
 upon my respected friends ihe Antiquaries, lam 
 loth to copy more than one passage, which appears 
 to me in a very different style from his other works, 
 — an admirable specimen of his comic powers. It 
 is in the Fourth Letter. 
 
 Though I am sensible the list (of the Wardens) 
 " is very imperfect, 1 have not leisure to make it 
 " complete by passing six months in the Tower. 
 
 " If you would have it exact, you may go and 
 " consult Browne JVillis, a man of a singular cha- 
 '•' racter — a genuine Antiquary, in learning, man- 
 
 ners, habit, and person — so extraordinary, that I 
 " think it worth a digression to give you an account 
 " of him, to acquaint you with his family, and 
 '•' point out his residence by such marks that you 
 " will know it the moment you see it. 
 
 " The fortune of his family was acquired by the 
 " celebrated Tho?nas IFiUis, M. D. out of Cavaliers 
 " who were sick of the war. It was acquired by 
 " single fees, before the Funds were created, and 
 " Change Alley turned into a Court of Requests. 
 
 " He was a man of uncommon penetration, and 
 " saw farther into the head than his contemporaries. 
 " He wrote many ingenious Romances, in a nervous 
 " and pleasing style. 
 
 " He was known to have dealt much with familiar 
 " spirits called animal. Having command over 
 " them, he could make, for the entertainment of 
 
 " his 
 
DR. 5NEYD DAVIES. 
 
 *' his acquaintance, a million of them dance a jigg 
 *' on the pineal gland of a line lady, or on the point 
 
 of a needle. He would send them on errands, 
 " God knows where, and remand them back, as 
 " quick as thought. These obsequious beings always 
 " perched upon his elbow when he wrote prescrip- 
 ^' tions, after which they instantly whipped into the 
 " pahn of his right hand. He could place them 
 " spread over all that was exterior in fribbles, or 
 k " confine them to the finger of a celebrated fiddler — 
 " the hand of a cheat — the foot of a dmcing-master 
 " — the toe of a soldier — the posteriors of a bull}' — or 
 " the heart of a lover, and make them jump through 
 " little crevices into the hollow pericranium of a 
 " Metliodist. 
 
 " The Doctor gave the money thus acquired for 
 " his grandson's purchase of this antique place, 
 
 which indeed is a little crowded with natural plaij- 
 " tatirus, the owner having made a vow to live in a 
 " word. 
 
 " The house is invested with tall and large trees, 
 " which look fcrniidable in deca\-, yielding an occa- 
 " sional habitation to a colony of rooks, w ho legally 
 " have enjoyed them by authentic prescription from 
 " the days of Richard the Fiist. 
 
 " The vallum that encloses the garden, is a little 
 " out of repair, but is never to be rebuilt by his 
 "heirs. The penalty is a curse of pulling an old 
 " wall upon their heads. 
 
 " The ?noat that surrounds the house has from all 
 " time enjoyed a melancholy and slumbering still- 
 " ness, unruffled by winds, and stranger to a dim- 
 " pie ; but has been for several years changing its 
 " nature, and thickening into earth. 
 
 " His unmolested gate loves its threshold * ; alit- 
 " tie wicket lets you into a little court, lined and 
 " overshadowed with yews, which present a very so- 
 
 * " Amatque 
 
 Janua limen." — Horace. 
 
 " lemn 
 
204 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " lemn gloom. You need not strike your hand upon 
 
 the door ; you may with ease creep through it; or 
 " the walls that are pervious can give you ample 
 " room for admittance. 
 
 " The furniture of the inside is green, but resem- 
 " blcs the verde antique. The parlour is wains- 
 '• coated with oak, indigenous, and more than co- 
 " eval with its tenement. The pannels are little 
 " squares, intermixed with fluted pallustrade, which, 
 " by way of capital, support the faces of men, 
 " hut which hear no resemblance to human nature. 
 "The chambers are hung with silks and velvets, in 
 
 a kind of Mosaic, in the manner of patchwork. 
 " His father must have purchased them out of the 
 " Jrnndelian wardrobe; for the son, by his indefati- 
 " gable erudition, can prove them to be the genuine 
 " remnants of Queen ElizahctKs hoop-petticoat. 
 
 " A variety of ornaments appear in furniture 
 '•' which Time has impaired. You see an assortment 
 " of statues that fell at the Reformation from their 
 " crosses *, and have looked as if they had been 
 
 scared * ever since. 
 
 " There is many a Saxon bust, of man, or beast, 
 " but which is not well determined ; numberless 
 " fragments of painted glass, scraps of inscriptions, 
 '•' and shreds of deeds. 
 
 " In his library, adorned with fretwork of pendent 
 " spiders'-webs, you will find a large collection of 
 " Coins, down from Abraham to the Borough half- 
 
 pein}!/. 
 
 " He had, before he gave them to the University 
 " of Oxford, the most ample collection of Towns- 
 " men's Halfpence; ten of which are nearly equal in 
 " their intrinsic value to one ot the farthings issued 
 " by (food, but in the extrinsic are infinitely supe- 
 " rior. 
 
 * This appears to inc veiy like the manner of Horace Walpole 
 ill luslivcj) and amusing Letters. 
 
 " Amongst 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 205 
 
 " Amongst his MSS. written all of tliem in his 
 own hand with incredible assiduity, you will see 
 a laborious Dictionary of Lords, Abbots, Parlia- 
 ment-men, Gendemen, Clergymen, and Parish 
 clerks, ever since t!ie Saxon Invasion ; and in what 
 may be called his famili/ pictures you have the 
 most copious registers of marriages, births, and 
 burials, that is to be found in the v^'orld. 
 " The territory around him has been remarkable 
 for considerable actions heretofore; but is now dis- 
 figured with pits, dug, not for marie, gravel, or 
 earthly use, but in search of Roman spears, and 
 Saxon stirrups. 
 
 " He shews a botanical curiosity, unparalleled in 
 England, Europe, or the Universe. It is a willow 
 basket, propagated from the identical ivlcker bas- 
 ket of Druid'mn recorded by Julius Ccesar ; 
 though some carry it no higher than to the buck- 
 ing basket, well known in the facetious reign of 
 Henry the Fourth." 
 
 From the Original in Dr. Davies's hand : 
 
 Upon entering my house at Kingsland 
 after a long journey. 
 
 In imitation of Catullus ad Sinnionem peninsulam. 
 
 Nov. 1736. 
 Welcome, my little snug retreat *, 
 Where all is calm, where all is neat ; 
 For thee, whate'er I 've seen besides, 
 My heart, my faith, my love derides. 
 
 * Peninsularum Sirmto, insularumque 
 
 Ocelle, quascunque in liquentibus stagnis, 
 Marique vasto fcrt uterque Neptunus. 
 
 With 
 
206 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 * With what delight and cordial glee. 
 Dismounting, I re-visit thee, 
 And scarcely can persuade the miiid 
 That storms and JVales are left behind, 
 t Happy the peaceful joys to share 
 That fold me in my elbow-chair, 
 The mind, by irksome toil opprest, 
 Unbends itself, and leans to rest. 
 Pleas'd I behold the well-known hearth. 
 And scenes familiar to its mirth; 
 This golden minute overpays 
 The weary nights, the restless days. 
 
 J Then hail again, my gentle home. 
 And say you 're pleas'd that I am come. 
 Whether your nodding trees approve, 
 Or your streams murmur out their love. 
 Come, ye familiar sports, and, all 
 Ye laughs, be ready, when I call. 
 
 * jQuam te libenter, quhmque Jaetus inviso, 
 
 Vix mi ipse credens Thyniam, atque Bithynos 
 
 Liquisse campos. — 
 \ O quill solutis est beatius curis 
 
 Cum mens onus reponit, ac peregrino 
 
 Lahore fessi venimus Larem ad nostrum, 
 
 Desideratoque acquiescimus lecto ? 
 
 Hoc est, quod unum est pro laboribus tantis, 
 X Salve, O venusta 5jrmio, atque hero gaude ; 
 
 Gaudete, vosque Laris lacus undee ; 
 
 Eidete quicquid est domi cachimaorum. 
 
Dll. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 207 
 
 AD AMICUM. 
 
 [These verses are addressed to Stephen Poyntz*, 
 Esq. Preceptor to the Duke of Cumberland; writ- 
 ten at KnoU-HHls, \ 739.] 
 
 Lusi Cameiiis aptus, et otio, 
 Qua Tieuta, duici flumiiie, Derbia 
 Per prata decurrit, vetiisque 
 Sylva tegit juga sumtna Nolce. 
 
 Nec me sub umbra desidiam brevem 
 Captare, nec me rupibus aviis 
 Gaudere, clivosoque agello 
 Dedecuit, nemorumque scena 
 
 Tecto immiuentum desiiper, et Lares 
 Lymphis ad imos desilientibus, 
 Doctisque per pronum nitenti 
 Gramen iter properare rivo. 
 
 Tuto latentem rure, nec Austria 
 Clades labantis, nec Batavi timor, 
 Gallusve mendax, aut superbi 
 Solicitat rabies Iberi : 
 
 Insanientis non populi scelus. 
 Noil Italorum cauLibus et choris 
 
 * Mr. Poyntz was a most accomplished as well as a moat ami- 
 able man. He was educated with Mr. Hard'mge in Eton College, 
 and was a Fellow of King's. He became afterwards Preceptor to 
 the Duke of Cumberland ; and Mr. Hard'mge was His Royal High- 
 ness's Attorney General. He was maternal grandfather to Earl 
 Spencer, and was employed in the Corps Diplomatique. His 
 country seat was at Midgliam in Berkshire. His Letters to Mr. 
 Hardinge were uncommonly elegant and pleasing. 
 
 Assueta, 
 
208 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Assueta, virtutisque verae 
 
 Inimemor, et patriae, juventus. 
 
 Jam fessus urbem, longaque curiae 
 Gestit Senator praelia linquere; 
 Oblitus iraruai, paternos 
 
 Lustrat agros, avibus timendus, 
 
 Walpolus, arvis, et laribus novis 
 Auctas aviti lustrat opes soli, 
 Festaque jam dignus quiete 
 Per vacuam sibi vivit horam. 
 
 Lucos Esherte, daedala qua suum 
 Natura geslit vincere Kentium, 
 Molamqite labentem, domumque 
 Pieriam repetit Pelhamus, 
 
 Miscere lento seria callidus 
 Risu ; nec idem consiliis iners, 
 
 Linguaque, rem parcit Britannam 
 Temporibus dubiis tueri. 
 
 Nec tu, Poyntzi, inglorius in sinu 
 Fundi cubantis consita nunc colis 
 Querceta, nunc lauros perennes 
 Spargere amas, placidusve frustra 
 
 Colles amictos ^boribus vides, 
 Villaeque aquarum planitiem adjicis 
 ^desque dulci quae parumper 
 Hospitio teneant Wilhelmum, 
 
 CurjE ferentem signa tua;, ac patris 
 Ritu paratum Martis honoribus 
 Fulgere, seu pcenas daturus 
 Angliacam petat hostis oram, 
 
 Sett 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 209 
 
 Seu classe Gades vindice Georgius, 
 Notoque gentem fulmine perfidam 
 Irritet, Arctooqae reddat 
 Praesidium pelago, suasve 
 
 Littus remotum visat Americie, 
 Et Mexicanos imperio regat 
 Portus, et Indarum tiiumphet 
 Dives opum, domitor Peruvi. 
 
 Cur me reductse vallis in aiigulo 
 Civilis ardor, telave terreaiit 
 Adversa, Walpolo profundi 
 
 Quid deceat dominum cavente ? 
 
 Translation of the foregoing, 1740. 
 Friend of the Muses and repose, 
 Where Trent, delightful current, flows 
 Through Derby's pastures green : 
 Stranger to care of late I play'd 
 Under my Nola's hilly shade. 
 
 Romantic, pleasing scene ! 
 
 Nor need I deem it a disgrace. 
 When leisure for a while takes place. 
 
 To catch a short repast. 
 Of prospect which the mountains yield, 
 The cave retir'd, and sloping field, 
 
 Imagination's feast. 
 
 The overhanging woods above 
 Imbow'ring in their green alcove, 
 
 That crowns the limpid rill ; 
 Whose streams, eternally supplied, 
 Form a bright track, and glitt'ring slide 
 
 Adown the verdant hill. 
 
 p Why 
 
210 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Why should I think, in this retreat. 
 Of sinking Germany's defeat, 
 
 Or FUury's wily brain ; 
 Whate'er the puzzled Dutchman fears, 
 Or what the haughty Don prepares 
 
 In impotence from Spain ? 
 
 The madd'ning people's causeless rage, 
 And all the follies of the age. 
 
 The masque, the song (which yet 
 Our giddy youth with warmth pursue. 
 To virtue and their country due) 
 
 I willingly forget. 
 
 The City's hum, the noisy war 
 Of Lawyers wrangling at the Bar, 
 
 All now arehush'd in peace. 
 Each party-senator retires. 
 And all agree to turn their fires 
 
 Against the feather'd race. 
 
 See Pelham to his Esher goes, 
 Where potent Nature only knows 
 
 Her artist to excel : 
 Pelham himself delights to hear 
 The Mole soft-murm'ring to his ear 
 
 In his Pierian cell. 
 
 Who happier in the art to blend, 
 Alike Philosopher and Friend, 
 
 The grave and debonair? 
 Nor less his eloquence and mind 
 To counsel able and inclin'd, 
 
 When Britain asks his care. 
 
 Nor 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 211 
 
 Nor thine, O Poyntz, ignoble ease, 
 Studious to plant thy fav'rite trees 
 
 Along the shelving glade : 
 And here the infant oak is sown, 
 And here the laurel hopes to crown 
 
 Thy merit with a shade. 
 
 Say not, when you the woody brow 
 Survey, and the spread lake below, 
 
 That these not entertain — 
 Seats that may Cumberland a while. 
 In whom thy happy labours smile, 
 
 Agreeably detain. 
 
 He, all his Father in his soul. 
 Each hostile effort shall controul, 
 
 And bring his country peace ; 
 Whether the Sovereign will ordain 
 His thund'ring fleets to visit Spain, 
 
 Or awe the Northern seas. 
 
 Or whether in the Indian sky 
 The banner'd sails victorious fly, 
 
 And with a name subdue. 
 The ports of Mexico are won. 
 And the bright produce of the sun 
 
 Is ours in rich Peru. 
 
 Abstracted in a corner here. 
 
 Why should I war and weapons feai-. 
 
 Or aught of ill besides ? 
 For JValpoleat the helm secure 
 Takes measures worthy of the Power 
 
 That o'er the sea presides. 
 
 p 2 HORACEj 
 
212 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 HORACE, Ep. VI. Lib. I.* 
 
 With steady wing between extremes to soar, 
 Not proudly vain, nor despicably poor ; 
 Our even soul in Virtue's scale to poize, 
 Not sunk by cares, nor buoy'd by idle joys ; 
 In a calm medium to secure our state, 
 Deaf to uneasy love and restless hate : — 
 This golden lesson ancient sages taught. 
 Thus Tullr^ acted, and thus Horace thought. 
 Cato for this disdain'd Rome's little pride. 
 And Scipio threw his worthless wreaths aside. 
 These rules alone insure untainted bliss. 
 And point the easy path to happiness. 
 Stay thy fix'd breast, by flattering scenes unbent; 
 Fond admiration dwells not with content. 
 Some lurking ills the gaz'd-at pomp destroy, 
 Delights fatigue, tumultuous pleasures cloy. 
 While abject crowds are ruffled with surprize. 
 And ideot wonder stares from vulgar eyes ; 
 No sudden turn the settled thought can move; 
 Philosophers admire not, but approve. 
 
 * The design of this Epistle is to show, that we aie widely 
 mistaken if we place our happiness in riches, honours, or plea- 
 sure ; that every thing which excites in our hearts fear or desire 
 must be fatal to our peace ; that surprise and admiration are the 
 source of this fear or desire ; and, consequently, that in order 
 to get rid of the latter we must discard the former, and keep our 
 minds so firmly poised, as not to be disconcerted by the ardent 
 hope of gaining, or anxious dread of losing, any of those things 
 on which the bulk of mankind commonly doat. But this even- 
 ness of temper is only to be acquired by the study of moral phi- 
 losophy, and the practice of virtue. Duncombe. 
 
 No 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 2 
 
 No glaring meteors can disturb their soul, 
 
 Nor all the starry worlds above that roll : 
 
 Since what the dastard populace affright, 
 
 A Newton or a Derham may delight. 
 
 They trace, unmov'd, the comet's swift career. 
 
 Though monarchs shudder, and though nations fear j 
 
 They view the countless terrors of the sky 
 
 With cool reflection, and through reason's eye. 
 
 Let us then spurn all vain terrestrial joys. 
 
 Think honours trifles, diadems but toys. 
 
 Shall the mind lie unhing'd by each mad flight. 
 
 And gaudy objects catch the giddy sight.? 
 
 Shall we from paint and stone our bliss receive, 
 
 Hang o'er a statue, on a picture live ? 
 
 Go, purchase gewgaws, and at auctions pine 
 For mummies, urns, a pebble, or a coin. 
 Peru its birds or butterflies shall bring. 
 And India's womb be tortur'd for a ring. 
 A tea-boaril from Japan thy wish attends ; 
 Persia a screen, a carpet Turkey sends. 
 
 Yet know, whate'er you are, whom pleasure's bait 
 Tempts to delight, or grandeur prompts to state ; 
 Whether for trifles of a higher sphere 
 You long, perhaps, a coronet to wear. 
 Or your vain breast beats fondly for a star ; 
 Pleas'd from your gilded chariot to bestow 
 A look on bending crowds that gaze below ; 
 Or, more exalted, ev'n at courts preside. 
 And cringing levees feed your swelling pride; 
 Though you in senates every taste could hit 
 With Coinp(o7i's eloquence, and Stanhope'' s wit, 
 Know your gay sunshine swiftly hastes to set : 
 
 Y< 
 
214 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 You to that common fatal goal must run. 
 Where Tudors and Plantagenets are gone. 
 
 If through your blood contagious humours glide. 
 If torturing pains aflBict your aching side, 
 If agues chill, or fevers scorch your brain, 
 Quick seek a refuge from disease and pain. 
 Do you (as sure all must) desire with ease 
 And true content to tread life's dangerous ways ? 
 If Virtue can alone that blessing give, 
 And her attendants only happy live. 
 Pursue the Goddess with unceasing pain ^ 
 O'er the bleak mountain, or the barren plain, > 
 While Wealth invites, and Pleasure smiles in vain. J 
 
 But if strict Virtue's laws your soul denies, 
 As holy cheats impos'd on vulgar eyes. 
 To interest's call your honesty postpone. 
 Bid widows weep, and plunder'd orphans groan ] 
 Add plumb to plumb, your swelling stock increase, 
 Till a Director's wealth your labours bless; 
 Till your full warehouses can hold no more. 
 And your heap'd treasures bend the groaning floor. 
 
 The man whom wealth surrounds no want laments, 
 Each charm, each grace bis every wish prevents ; 
 Obsequious friends his crowded levee grace. 
 And willing beauty yields to his embrace : 
 Less Hervey's form could tempt tli' enamour'd maid, 
 Less Murray's strongest eloquence persuade. 
 
 If then content by gold alone is bought. 
 Let that alone employ your every thought: 
 But sliould vain pump and grandeur sooth your breast, 
 Convinc'd that all who haunt the court are blest, 
 
 Quick 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 215 
 
 Quick to the park and drawing-room repair, 
 Like Savage, know each staff and ribbon there ; 
 Bow to the Minister, accost his Grace, 
 And talk familiar with the Peer in place ; 
 Tnroll each noble Lord among your friends, 
 Who makes a Bishop, or a Member sends. 
 
 If more substantial bliss ragouts supply, 
 And all the joys of life in eating lie, 
 The dictates of your palate swift pursue. 
 Search all that 's costly, elegant, and new : 
 Be it the business of each day to dine, 
 While meats Pontac supplies, and Jephson wine. 
 
 Thus Serjeant Miller, deaf to MammcnCs call, 
 Oft chang'd his wig, and hurried from the hall ; 
 And if the luscious turbot fill'd his eye, 
 Threw Littleton and all his Tenures by ; 
 Or while the venison bent his loaded fork. 
 Left eloquence and law to Pratt and Yorke. 
 
 If your soft senses mirth and music charm, 
 And wit and love alone your soul can warm, 
 Be seen at every masquerade and play. 
 Wear at quadrille the tedious nights away ; 
 The joys most exquisite that life can give 
 From Heideggef s alluring arts receive, 
 And every wish that fires your wanton will, 
 In Epicurus' modern groves fulfil. 
 
 Pleasures like these low vulgar minds affect ; 
 From these the people happiness expect : 
 But Virtue minds of nobler stamp invites. 
 In paths where soft enchanting pleasures play, 
 An Orleans or a Rochester may stray ; V 
 But a Nassau approves the thorny way. j 
 
 TO 
 
216 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 TO T. T. (Dr. Thomas) ; 
 Dec. 1741. 
 Horace, Lib. I. Ep. 12. 
 
 Between what you collect and what you set, 
 A hundred pounds per quarter, profits nett ! 
 It 's opulence — it leaves no room for more, 
 And, if you dare, complain that you are poor! 
 The world's good things enjoy'd, and at command, 
 * You need not stoop to kiss the Royal hand ; 
 With ease, with health, and cheerful thoughts — I doubt 
 What more you can acquire — unless the gout. 
 Should you in plenty's lap of diet spare. 
 Nettles and water-cresses all your fare. 
 O'er the cool sallad hermit-like rejoice. 
 We should not call it avarice, but choice ; 
 No Fortune's whim can alter Nature's bent. 
 And Virtue is the mother of Content. 
 
 Think you that Newton's meat escap'd from flies 
 When his free soul was absent in the skies? 
 When you, with tithes and parish cares perplext, 
 By thieving neighbours, cheating farmers, vext, 
 Yet, unabsorb'd in all this worldly sink, 
 Have time to eat, and boxt'l f — to read and think. 
 Of actions trace the source, and mark the tides. 
 Why, though it 's war, in peace the navy rides ; 
 
 * What an original and spirited line I 
 
 + The race here described is, I trust, obsolete in 1816. 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 21/ 
 
 Who checks our prowess ? whether in the deep, 
 
 H cA"'s by choice or by command asleep ; 
 
 Discern between the tarnish'd and the pure, 
 Why Vtrnon shine? when others are obscure; 
 
 *********** 
 
 *********** 
 But, whether you dissect your stall-fed beast, 
 Or slay the leeks and cabbage for your feast. 
 Pray think of ftees \ ; and, of j'our own accord, 
 A pipe unask'd-for to your guest afford. 
 You '11 find his claim, now conscionable, stints 
 All evening draughts to less than seven pints ; 
 When your full casks with liquid plenty burst, 
 It 's very hard your friend should die of thirst. 
 
 As to the rest — above how matters go, 
 Who fall and rise at JVcstminster, you '11 know ; 
 
 Unrighteous Bl cy the Law's decree 
 
 Has heard, abash'd, and shorter by the kneeX. 
 Astraa 's come ; — and Ceres o'er the fields 
 Her promise of a golden harvest yields. 
 
 * The two next lines, though full of spirit, mark so little re- 
 spect for the Constitution of Parliament, that I am afraid of 
 copying them. Our Friend was a most flaming Patriot ! 
 
 t Rees Price, of Erdisland, a curate fond of a cup. 
 
 X Genibus minor. — Horace. 
 
 In 
 
21 S ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 In these Imitations I do injustice to my Hero in 
 suppressing the Original, because much of their un- 
 common merit arises from comparison ; but I assume 
 that all classical readers will have recourse to it: and 
 I can promise that 1 shall have their best thanks for 
 enabling them to see what happiness there is in the 
 version. They are closer than Pope's, but not less 
 harmonious. 
 
 Two or three passages I must particularize. 
 
 Fructibus Agrippae Siculis, quos colligis. 
 
 Here the word collect in the Imitation, though 
 literal, gives a new sense. This answers to Mr. 
 Locke's definition of pure tvit. But the whole is 
 equally ingenious; and the Imitations of this charm- 
 ing Poet were never, if it is not a paradox to say it, 
 more truly original. 
 
 The turn of kissing the royal hand, and of ac- 
 quiring the gout, the parody of the offered pipe, 
 and of the moderate claim on the cellar, deserve to 
 be remarked. 
 
 Si ventri bene, si lateri est, pedibusque fuis, nil 
 Divitiae poterunt regales acldere inajus. — 
 Utere Pompeio GrospJio : et, si quid petit, ultro 
 Defer: nil Grosphus nisi varum orabit et aequuni. 
 
 The decree against the unrighteous part}', a recent 
 and popular event, is here a fine stroke of satire, 
 produced by a shade of departure from the original. 
 
 Jus imperiunique Phradtes 
 CiPsaris accepit, genibus niinor. 
 
 I mav 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 I may now, mv dear Friend, as well give you the 
 additional verses of this charming Poet. 
 
 April 1742. 
 While now the vernal clouds impend, 
 
 And seem the distant hills to kiss, 
 May no ill-omen'd blast attend 
 
 To waft away the hov'ring bliss ! 
 The heavens are wav'ring in suspense, 
 
 In doubt as yet what face to wear. 
 Whether look stern on man's offence, 
 
 Or on his follies drop a tear. 
 To his own race in tenor shewn, 
 
 Stern was the air that Joseph kept : 
 But, when their guilt he heard ihem own, 
 
 'Twas then he turrCd, and then he wept. 
 
 IN DOMUNCULAM THOMASIANAM. 
 JS.Amm acciinis lateri sinistro, 
 Quod Lares inter tibi nomen addam ? 
 Crustane ut serves vigil, an Cloaca 
 
 Arbiter audis ? 
 Quatuor te vix homines (pusillos 
 Parturit quales hodierna tellus) 
 Vix queant portare humeris, novaque 
 
 Figere terra ! 
 Fallot : angustum colit hunc recessum 
 Quem probe noscunt et amant Camccna i 
 Hie jacet liidi* satur in rireto, 
 
 Totus in illis. 
 Arcta sit curiae donius, et reductae 
 Molls; liic ilium comitare vcHcm 
 Cum bonis et cum lepidis, 17ioma'q'\e 
 
 Instar, amicis. 
 * The Bowling-green, 
 
 I am 
 
220 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 1 am happy in the power to add an Alcaic Ode, 
 addressed by him to his friend Doctor Cranhe the 
 Physician, I take it from a book which gives this 
 character of Davies : 
 
 " Dr. Davies possessed the most amiable and 
 " conciliating manners. To the refined accomplish- 
 " ments of the scholar he joined the meek and the 
 " unassuming spirit of the Christian. His moral 
 " and intellectual character is pourtrayed in some 
 " elegant lines by Miss Seward; and in a Latin 
 " Epistle, in which the easy flow of the verse and the 
 *' felicity of the diction contend for superiority, writ- 
 " ten by Mr. Phelps, of New College, Oxford." 
 
 The Writer then gives the lines of Miss Seward, 
 which have been already laid before the Reader in 
 p. 10; and reserves the Latin Foem of Mr. Phelps 
 for his Appendix. 
 
 The Alcaic of Davies appears to me of the high- 
 est order, in poetical spirit, grace, and effect. The 
 Writer of these articles describes it well, in terming 
 it " an elegant composition of terse Latinity." 
 
 IN DOMUM CRANKIANJM. 
 
 Amice ; — villae temperiem tuae 
 Laudo ; nec alter me inagis angulus 
 Oblectat : arridet, fatemiir, 
 Lene Cubans at aprica sede?, 
 
 Cui clivus Euros et Boream altior 
 Defendit, et quse IjEta Favonio 
 Se pandit, et flatus tepentes 
 Capiat, amans genialis Austri. 
 
 Credas 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 221 
 
 Credas Poetae ; non alia hac domus 
 Flaccum recepit; non aliter jugo 
 Supina, declivemque fuiidum, et 
 Irriguam speculata vallem : 
 
 Si tecta culmis lisec popularibus 
 Congesta, — tignis, et paleS, rudis 
 Si muriis horrescat, nec altse 
 Invidiam faciant colurnnae, 
 
 At non supeliex munda, nec iioi tuli 
 Deeiunt saiubres ; aridum iter soli, 
 Amnesque piscosi — et paiatae 
 Artis opes, tua coena, perdix. 
 
 Jucunda visu panditiir area, 
 Amicta cultii, strata mapaliis, 
 Altaque villa — nec recusal 
 Coeruleos aperire monies. 
 
 Hunc o recessum saepius oppido 
 Mutes, et arti ; — dum licet otio 
 Fruare, nec Febris clienles 
 
 Del nimios, nimiumque paucos. 
 
 For the authenticity of this Ode as the work of 
 Davies, I have the evidence of Major Evans, bro- 
 ther to the Rector of Kingsland, a gentleman to 
 whose liberal aid and politest attentions I am grate- 
 fully indebted. 
 
 TO 
 
222 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 TO UK. CRANKE, 
 
 In Imitation of Horace. 
 
 O naia mecum, yic.—Uh. III. Od. XXI. 
 
 Dec. 1742. 
 
 My cask ; whate'er attends thy train, 
 The comic or the sober vein, 
 
 * Whate'er thy brooding barrel 
 Of mirth or wisdom brings along, 
 The tale — the argument — the song, 
 
 Or amicable quarrel : 
 
 t Whether gay chat makes free with night, 
 Or slumbers wave their feathers light. 
 
 And close the cheerful scene. 
 Thy piercing be delay'd no more, 
 Come and yield up thy liquid store, 
 
 For Cranke the taste will deign. 
 
 X Not he, though deep in volume sage 
 
 Of SydenhanC s, Freind's, or Hoffman's page, 
 
 Will scruple to partake ; 
 Ev'n they with Bourdeaux and Cliampaigne 
 Could warm the philosophic brain, 
 
 And Mead could be a rake. 
 
 * Sea tu querelas, sive geris jocos 
 Sen rixam, et insanos aniores, 
 Seu facilem, pia testa, somnum. 
 
 f Descende, Coruino jubente, 
 Promere languidiora vina. 
 
 + Non ille, quanquam Socraticis madet 
 Sermonibus, te negliget horridus. 
 Narratur et prisci Catonis 
 Saep^ mero caluisse virtus. 
 
 Thou 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 *Thou gentle engine to extort 
 From pining sorrow, jest and sport, 
 
 The balm of hearts opprest; 
 tThou bliss, that stealing soft thy way, 
 Can turn insensibly the key 
 
 That opes the human breast; 
 
 I From thee Despair has gleams of hope, 
 The Curate emulates the Pope, 
 
 The beggar lifts his crest ; 
 § Patients awhile forget their ails, 
 Nor debtors fear to lie in jails, 
 
 Nor strollers to be press'd. 
 
 II Thee Bacchus with himself shall cheer ; 
 O that a Fenus too were here, 
 
 With all her graceful court ! 
 The tapers blaze with merry light ; 
 And pleasure makes the tedious night 
 
 Of slow December short. 
 
 * Tu lene tormentum ingenio admoves 
 
 Plerumque duro. 
 t Tu sapientium 
 
 Curas et arcanum jocoso 
 Consilium retegis Ly(EO. 
 X Tu spem reducis mentibus anxiis, 
 § Et addis cornua pauperi. 
 
 II Post te neque iratos trementi 
 
 Regum apices, neque militum armu. 
 ^ Te Liber, et si Iseta aderit V enus, 
 Segnesque nodum solvere Gratioe. 
 
.224 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 He seldom wrote verse of humour; but his talent 
 for it will appear in the following address to his 
 Friend. 
 
 On Dr. Cranke's Victory over the Gout. 
 
 The Maladies, assembled all, 
 Were grumbling in their sable hall : 
 For want of meat grown spare and lank, 
 They all complain'd of Doctor Cranke, 
 Of savage cruelty accus'd hjm, 
 How shockingly the tyrant us'd 'em. 
 The raging Fever at command 
 Was tame beneath his chilling hand, 
 And their best fiend, subdued, could spare 
 Its cherish'd prey, the young and fair. 
 In vain they burrovv'd ev'ry part. 
 The reins, the liver, and the heart; 
 In vain could each recess explore, — 
 He sends 'em back through ev'ry pore: 
 Some from the turbid stomach's coat 
 He forces up the patient's throat ; 
 And some, too heavy so to jump. 
 He sends before him to the rump : 
 These with a fatal powder slew, 
 And with a lancet those ran through; 
 Sustain'd the gasping patient's breath. 
 And physick'd all the fiends to death. 
 
 Gout, who had no Physician fear'd, 
 His agonizing phiz up-rear'd. 
 Swore that in vengeance he would go, 
 And catch the Doctor by the toe ; 
 
 But 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 225 
 
 But he, who saw the lurking fiend, 
 Said calmly, " I'll be with you^ f l iend^'' 
 And snatch'd at once, in his defence. 
 The goodly weapon abstinence; 
 He fenc'd and parried with his foe. 
 And warded off each coming blow. 
 While in his firm unshaken strength 
 He kept the monster at arms' length. 
 The monster vext retir'd, and swore 
 He never met his match before. 
 
 Dec. 30, 1745. 
 May no misfortune blot the rising year ! 
 No rebel bonnet South of Eske appear ! 
 No more her savage crest Distraction rear ! 
 O ! may the scene, polluted thus with blood. 
 Ope the seal'd eyes to make us wise and good 1 
 The menac'd havock, and the passing storm, 
 With terrors arm'd, a guilty age reform ! 
 Strike the base heart, and sweep corruptions all 
 From the pack'd Senate, or the tainted Stall ! 
 To virtue if no blessings could allure, 
 With scourges, to reclaim, — and plagues, to cure I 
 
 TO LORD VISCOUNT BATEMAN. 
 Hints from Phadrus^ Lib. 3, Prol. 
 
 Sincere if Bateman ask'd the Muse to sing, — 
 Ere she can raise her voice, or spread her wing, 
 She ventures to demand a vacant ear : 
 Unoccupied in state, from levees clear, 
 
 a He 
 
226 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 He must not think a moment is too long 
 To hear and feel the energy of song. 
 
 But justly he retorts — " Can lie have time 
 " From youth and pleasure to bestow on rhyme ! 
 " What, leave on Epsom down, or Windsor chace, 
 *' The noble game, or animating chace ! 
 " When, swiftly o'er the hill and forest borne, 
 " The mind re-echoes to the cheering horn ? 
 " Or leave his princely board, and social friend, 
 " On a poetic trifler to attend ! 
 " My verses to a rainy hour he '11 keep, 
 
 And with my sonnets doze himself asleep." 
 
 Born to sip early the Casialian rill, 
 Nurs'd as if cradled on the sacred hill 
 Where Inspiration sweeps the magic string, 
 And breath in air wafts music on its wing, 
 la youthful bloom, their laurel bowers among, 
 Play'd on their knees, and lisp'd their hallow'd song; 
 Though from the heart each abject wish is torn, 
 The world forsaken, and its bribes forsworn, 
 Fond of inglorious ease, without a name. 
 Or paid with envied praise in barren fame, 
 Yet by the Muses doom'd, alas, to wait, 
 Kept at a distance from their lofty gate ! 
 Still, as I feel the debt, my verse is due, 
 A neighbour's tribute of no servile hue; 
 Pleas'd could I hear that Bateman, young and gay. 
 Stole half an hour of life to read the lay. 
 
 C,\DUCAN 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 CADUCAN AND Dr. MILLES. 
 
 I have no key to this Poem, except what the verse 
 itself can supply. It should seem that some old 
 figure * imported from Bangor was presented by 
 Dr. Millcs to a Lord Bateman of those days ; but 
 whether it was the last Peer, or his immediate Pre- 
 decessor, for want of the Poem's date, I cannot as 
 yet ascertain. Both were contemporaries. The last 
 acquired the title, and the Shohden estate, very near 
 Kingsland, A. D. 1744. 
 
 " Why did I leave my Bangor'' s native shore ? 
 " Why ramble to the distant vale of Dore \ ? 
 " No Briton could profane my hallow'd slniiie, 
 " Or treat my form but as a thing divine. — 
 " Yet where than Dove a. more sequester'd shade 
 " Has thought conceiv'd, or gloomy Nature made ? 
 *' Yet there was found a sacrilegious race, 
 " Who seiz'd and rent me from the hallow'd base. 
 *' Think, to be wak'd with such alarming fears, 
 " Where I had slept in peace five hundred years 1 
 " O direful deed ! avenging powers, look down, 
 " Behold me toss'd and carted up to town, 
 *' Where smiling at his plunder Bateman stands, 
 " And Milles, arch traitor, clasps his impious hands. 
 
 Can I forget the leap that bounding sprung, 
 " His breathless accent struggling on his tongue, 
 " When first the caitiff spied upon my breast, 
 " The emblematic speculum imprest ? 
 " No more, ye fiends, upon my ruins tread ! 
 " Cease, ye barbarians, to insult the dead !" 
 
 * Mr. Pennant, in his Welsh Tour, vol. I. p. ^.33, has engraved 
 some old tofriii-Kds found at Bangor, on oup of which is iu- 
 scribed, " Hic jacf.t Itiiel Cadwgon." J. N. 
 
 t A river of that name runs through the golden valley in the 
 county of Hereford. 
 
 Q 2 Thus 
 
228 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Thus in accusing mood the Image cried, 
 
 Milles heard — and thus in choler's tone replied : 
 
 *' Ungrateful Caducan ! unkind amends ! 
 " Why blame compassion ? why calumniate friends ' 
 " For this — had Baiemaii's kind and gen'rous care 
 " Brought thee from darkness into light and air ? 
 " From killing damps and charnel vaults obscene, 
 " From walls in mossy distillations green ? 
 " Plac'd thee in decent state, a welcome guest, 
 " Brusird off thy dirt, and scower'd thy tatter'd vest ? 
 *' Was it for this repairing arts were spread, 
 " And lab'ring skill reform'd thy shatter'd head ? 
 *' Go, and lament, ingrate, the varied scene ; 
 " Go and complain that Bateman made thee clean j 
 *' Go to the silent gloom, and be forgot j 
 " Enjoy thy solitude ; — prefer to rot; 
 " Go to the Dorian vale, or Cambrian shore !" 
 Abash'd, the Idol slept, and spoke no more. 
 
 VERSES ADDRESSED TO OLD CAMDEN'S PICTURE, 
 
 AT LORD CAMDEN'S, IN KENT. 
 
 An extract from a gay little feather of Dr. Da- 
 vies, addressed to his friend John Dodd, has been 
 given in p. 504 ; and I shall now transcribe the 
 lines alluded to in pp. 487. 675. 
 
 Father of Britain! (late restor'd) a while 
 
 Attend, and cast a venerable smile ! 
 
 Know'st thou these walls, these walks, this woody brow ? 
 
 Blush, good old man, and see its glories now. 
 
 * I have obtained, by the favour of Lady Knowles, the origi- 
 nal picture of Davies, from whicli the keepsake to Lord Cam- 
 DKN was a copy ; and I send it you that it may be engraved. — 
 / know from the first Lord Camden that it was the very man 
 alive ; but I should guess at a younger age, not much above the 
 eighth lustre. 
 
 Know'st 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 229 
 
 Know'st thou the Man — 
 Whom neither fear nor favour can controul, 
 His inborn worth, and probity of soul : 
 Mild as the vernal gale, or softest lay ; 
 Firm as the rock that spurns the roaring sea: 
 " Inflexible, and steady to his trust :" — 
 Barely to say he 's upright, is unjust. 
 Father, be proud ; assume thy later fame : 
 Hear, and rejoice : he bears thy honour'd name. 
 
 Do I then flatter ? what ! for dirt and pence ? 
 'Tis false, ye hirelings ! wretches, get ye hence. 
 What ! for some meed ! — with me as light as air : 
 Trifles and toys beneath my seiious care. 
 Where interest, trifles, and ev'n power are weak. 
 Freely I draw ; and what I feel, I speak. 
 Ask, ask the People's, ask the Sovereign's choice. 
 Ask thy own Britain — she confirms my voice. 
 
 I shall conclude my account of this excellent man, 
 by transcribing his Epitaph: 
 
 " To the memory of 
 Sneyd Davies, D. D, 
 Archdeacon of Derby, 
 Canon Residentiary of the Cathedral Church of 
 Lichfield, and Rector of this Parish. 
 Born with natural abilities, 
 and furnished with acquired endowments, 
 equal to the highest station ; 
 his modest disposition withheld him from the pursuit 
 of that degree and advancement in the Church 
 to which his merits 
 peculiarly entitled him. 
 He died 20th day of January, 1769, 
 aged 59." 
 
 P. s. 
 
230 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 P. S. As a proper appendage to the preceding ar- 
 ticle, I proceed to transcribe, from Mr. Coxe's Me- 
 moirs of Stillingffeet *, an excellent sketch of the 
 Character of the Rev, John Williamson, by Mr. 
 Aldw ORTH Neville : 
 
 " If ever man lived to fifty, and died without 
 having lost a friend, or made an enemy, it was 
 Johnny IViUiamson. 
 
 Pope drew his character in a single line, 
 ' In wit a man, simplicity a child.' 
 Had he sat for the picture, it could not have been 
 more like : however, this is only a great outline, 
 and I must be more minute. With the most 
 acute understanding, and infinite discernment, any 
 dull scoundrel might have duped him any hour of his 
 life ; some did, and they alwa3's escaped with impu- 
 nity ; for he was as careful to conceal their iniquity 
 as they could be themselves : without vice himself, he 
 could not bear the thought of punishing it in others. 
 
 " The gentleness of his manners could only be 
 equalled by the depth of his genius : no sickness 
 could ruffle the one, or blunt the other. Bad health 
 indeed checked the flight of the latter, and hindered 
 its attaining those heights in philosophy and mathe- 
 matics to which he would otherwise have soared ; 
 as I heard from Professor Bradley, when I was a 
 Student at Oxford, and had not the happiness of 
 knowing IFiUiamson ; and many times have I heard 
 it since from some of the first men in those sciences 
 
 * Of that entertaining Work I have already sj>ol<en in p. 506, 
 and shall tinly now obbei ve that I think Mr. Stillingfeet's prose 
 most elegant, easy, and beautiful ; his thoughts, at once, inge- 
 nious, and chasic ; but his Charge, and Sermon, to Windham, 
 his Botanical iMemoirs, and his Tour, could have been spared. — 
 I have seen him at Lord Dacre's, and have heard him, but 
 thought him rather amiable than interesting. He generally ac- 
 companied his friend Mursliam, who was of the same cast. VVhen 
 I read his Letters to Mrs. Montagu I was charmed. Indeed all 
 liis Letters are pleasing and lively, as well as clever. I should 
 have thought it impossible for him to have loved any thing but a 
 Lmntran llaaie. By the way, I think his pittance of 100/. a vear 
 shamtftilly inadequate. G. H. 
 
 here 
 
REV. JOHN WILLIAMSON. 
 
 here and at Geneva ; from Rohlns, Earl Stanhope, 
 Stevens, StillingJJeet, Professors Calandrini and 
 Cramer of Geneva, to whom I may, from report, 
 add Sitnson of Glasgow. These are the iUustrious 
 witnesses of Wdliarnsotis inventive genius and ac- 
 curate judgment ; and well might they judge of both, 
 for none of them ever published any mathematical 
 work, when he was within reach, without first sub- 
 mitting it to his censure and correction. When Dr. 
 Frewen, the celebrated physician at Oxford, had 
 obtained his promise not to think of mathematics for 
 a twelvemonth at least, he employed that time in 
 making liimself thorough masterof Greek, which he 
 did without any fatigue of mind ; and afterwards, 
 when his bad l>cakh had entirely stopped his mathe- 
 matical career, he applied himself to tiie study of his 
 own profession, which he enforced and adorned with 
 every argument and ornament that could be drawn 
 from antient philosophj^ history, poetry, or belles 
 lettres. Superior as his genius was, it was nothing 
 to his heart : that was literally without a spot ; for I 
 will not call by that name a thoughtless indolency, 
 the child of innocence and generosity. 
 
 " He was in the strictest sense of the word a true 
 Christian, made up of faith, meekness, and charity. 
 Generous to such a degree as never to look on the 
 solitary guinea in his pocket as his own, whilst any 
 object struck him that seemed to want it more than 
 himself: no wonder, therefore, he was always poor. 
 I asked him one day, why he was not of the Royal 
 Societ}^ ? His answer was, that he had never found 
 himself worth ^20 to pay the fees. This, amongst 
 other marks of his character, I mentioned to the 
 Duke of Bedford, in my recommendation of him to 
 the Chaplainc}' of /.f,sfeo?2 ; and such an union of 
 merit and poverty weighed more with his Grace, than 
 the efFoi b of very powerful solicitors in favour of 
 other conipetitors: he was appointed to that employ- 
 ment, ilow he discharged his duty, the universal 
 veneration and affection of every rank of every Na- 
 
2$2 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 tion with which he had any concern, best certified. 
 Sir Benjamin Keene, Mr. Castres, and Mr. Hay, 
 His Majesty's Ministers at the Courts of Spain and 
 Portugal, together with the whole British Factory, 
 adored him. The Portuguese Nobihty and Clergy 
 treated him with a respect never paid to his Prede- 
 cessors ; and, what flattered him more than all the 
 rest, the common people of Lisbon, forgetting he 
 was a Heretick, never once offered him the least 
 insult ; but, on the contrary, were ever ready to 
 assist him in finding out the huts of the sick or dying 
 English sailors. 
 
 " He escaped the Earthquake miraculously ; but it 
 left such a horror on his gentle mind, that he fre- 
 quently requested his friends to wave their curiosity 
 on that subject. He happened to have received 
 fifty moidores the day before the Earthquake, and 
 had them in his pocket the next morning ; reflecting 
 on this circumstance, he was saying some time after- 
 wards, that he believed he had been at one time the 
 richest man in Lisbon : " True," said Mr. Castres, 
 *' but how much had you left the next night?" He 
 had given it all away ; and soon afterwards insisted, 
 and from a perseverance very unusual in him, pre- 
 vailed with the Factory to abate I30 moidores of the 
 stipend they had themselves fixed upon him. He, 
 however, continued to remit a handsome allowance to 
 his mother and sisters in Scotland, to his dying day. 
 All his books and papers, which last was an irrepa- 
 rable loss to the publick, as well as to himself, were 
 buried in the general ruin. The horrid executions 
 on account of the King's assassination wrought 
 deeply likewise on his gentle disposition ; and the 
 more so, as he had personally known the Marquis de 
 Tavora, and others of the sufferers. 
 
 " Early in the year 17<}3, this godlike man was, 
 about his 50th year, relieved from all his infirmities, 
 and gathered to his kindred angels. He leff just 
 enough to bury him, and would have left no more 
 if he had been Archbishop of Canterbury'' 
 
[ 233 ] 
 
 My dearFriend, M^altonG rove, Mar. 20, iSlff. 
 
 I have still one more article for you, connected 
 with the Memoir of Dr. Davies. 
 
 N^oscitur a aociia, though it is not universal, is a 
 very general, and a very safe criterion of the asso- 
 ciated individuals — till presumption is overturned by 
 fact. Let us apply this criterion. 
 
 Mr. fVhaley was intemperate, and a libertine 
 — Dr. Davies an exemplary moralist; but the for- 
 mer, I should guess, had convivial talents, and com- 
 panionable ones. These cover a multitude of sins. 
 Mr. Dodd had no literature, but he had a generous 
 heart and benevolence of manner. In Dr. Thomas^ 
 in Lord Camden, in Aldivorth Neville, and in 
 Phelps, " though last not least," Dr. Davies had 
 the society of spirits in perfect unison with his own. 
 — The Writer who is iiow coming upon the scene 
 would confer honour upon friends of the highest 
 class for genius and wit. — I mean Mr. Phelps. 
 
 I have made inquiries, and some discoveries, con- 
 cerning this accomplished and gifted scholar, but as 
 yet very incomplete. 
 
 The name struck me, as familiar to my recollection 
 of it in a very diiFerent place from Tivol'i. 
 
 I was carried once to the Catch Club — against all 
 rule — not as a guest protected by one of the mem- 
 bers; but as an interloper, in the very heart of the 
 vocal feast, and at night. 
 
 There I saw, and there I heard, a Mr. Phelps, 
 who was then Hlling the chair of the Vice President. 
 
 I was much pleased with his aj)pearance, with his 
 manners, and, above all, with his musical talent. 
 
 1 learnt that he was a personal friend of Lord 
 Sandwich, and that he had been Undersecretary of 
 State: but that he had in this Club the less dignitied 
 post of Secretary, and Treasurer, from his passion for 
 vocal nuisick. In two or three j^ears afterwards he 
 was no more. 
 
 I have 
 
234 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 0F LITERATURE. 
 
 I have since found that he was the writer of the 
 following Letters — that in I761 he was Secretary 
 to tJie. Legation at Turin — that in I768 he was 
 appointed Provost Marshal of the Leeward 
 Jdavds — and that he (Ued witliout issue in 1771, a 
 very general favourite. 
 
 1 have also learnt more details of him, and they 
 are not a little curious. 
 
 He was born at Eye. in the county of Hereford, 
 the son of the Rev. George Phelps, Custos of the 
 College in Hereford, and V'icar oi Jll Saints \\\ that 
 City, who married a lllntney (whose mollier was a 
 Cornwall), and died March 23, 1753, in Hereford* . 
 
 He was educated at fVhichester school ; and the 
 Bishop of Worcester informs me that his Latin 
 versos there had a very ingenious and classical turn. 
 He there formed an acquaintance with Lord Rivers, 
 then George Pitt, and with Lord Bruce, afterwards 
 the last Earl of Aylesbury. After he took his Ba- 
 chelor's degree, he became travelling tutor to the 
 Dnhe of Beaufort, ]\lr. Bouverie of Teston, and 
 Mr. James Dawhins. It appears from the Letters 
 of Davies that he had been twice abroad, and I 
 supjjose with different pupils. In one of these trips 
 be was accompanied by the two ff'inchester friends, 
 Lord Bruce and Mr. Pitt. The latter, being ap- 
 pointed Embassador to the King (f Sardinia, made 
 Phelps the Secretary of Legation. 
 
 Uj)on the Kings marriage we have his iiatne to 
 an English Epithalamium, published in the Oxford 
 Collection. This, I have no doubt, was the compo- 
 sition of Daa ies, though it is the Odyssey of his 
 Iliad; but it has marks of his power and style, 
 which are decisive to shew that he is the writer of it. 
 
 Phelps, at the date of this Poem, was at If 'in- 
 chester, as an Adjutant of the Dorset Militia. — la 
 the verse he alludes to his travels, and these two 
 friends by name. 
 
 * One of liis daughters married Dr. Leigh, a Canon Residen- 
 tiary of Hereford, and Archdeacon of Salop. 
 
 I may 
 
MR. RICHARD PHELPS. 
 
 I may as well copy here the Poem addressed by 
 him to Davies, and sent from Oxford : 
 
 O qui sub umbra Socraticis mades 
 Chartis, et idem carmen amabile 
 EflFundis, arridente Phxho 
 Casfalioque choris fluente: 
 Nunc o resumas, nunc poliiis, lyram 
 Laurosque ssevas, et faciles huino 
 Sterni catervas, et cruenti 
 Arma canas animosa belli. 
 En qua caducum fortior Austria * 
 Inspirat ignem, qua. rapidos agit 
 Victiix triumphos, et calentes 
 Vindicat inferias suorum. 
 Audin', quis horror; quid referunt soni 
 Fatale, — circa quis reboantuui 
 
 Plausus virorum est? heu quot umbioe 
 Prcecipitant per opaca lethi ! 
 tlllilc vagari non patitur suos 
 Perita vestri cura Machaunis, 
 
 * This, I fipj)relienfl, has a peculiar gi'ace ad hominem, for 
 Davies had written a poetical address to the Queen of Hungary. 
 
 f These two stanzas, which are copied by Davies in one of 
 his Letters, prove a command of the Horatimi tune. They are 
 thus introduced by his fi ienil. The Letter has no date : 
 
 " I have a Letter from young Phelps at Oxfurd, with a Latin 
 " Ode. I mention it upon account of two stanzas wherein Dr. 
 " Cranke is dubbed a Poet. After describing the ha\ ock of the 
 " war, 
 
 " Quot umbraj 
 " Precipitant per opaca lethi ; 
 " follow these lines : 
 
 " lllilc vagari, &c. &c. Medicns-Poeta. 
 " He has incurred this odium and scandal by keeping bad 
 " company, and, should the notion spread, it may do him harm 
 " in business — yet I love mischief so well, that I cannot forbear 
 « smiling." 
 
 ' Quos- 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Quoscunque Febris torquet urens, 
 Inflat Hydrops, minuitve Tabes. 
 
 Huic Phoebus artetn non dedit unicam ; 
 Et sanat herbis, et cithara valet, 
 Ipse instar Hannesi, corona 
 Par duplici — Medicus-Poeta, 
 
 Te jure, totum te sibi vindicant 
 Pindi soroxes ; te fidibus Deus 
 Donavit arguiisque nervis 
 
 Et properam dedit ipse laurum. 
 
 Sed O dolendum ! te penetralibus 
 Non Wiccamanis erudiens lyram 
 Instruxit aedes — non disertiE 
 Wintonidiim coluere Musae. 
 
 Prudens futuri Regia te domus 
 In lacte fovit ; Camus alit suum 
 yEtate matura, invidetque 
 
 Tarn celebrem P/iedj/cin^ alumnum. 
 
 Ille inter omnes flevit aquas dolens, 
 Cum te juventae pra2sidium sua; 
 Vidit revulsum — " Siste," dixit, 
 *' Ruris amans, tacitseque famse !" 
 
 Desideratus jam nimiiim diu, 
 Tandem pudori pone modum tuo ; 
 Te Gratics tristes reposcunt, 
 Et citharie sine te silentes. 
 
 Nec me pusillum filiolum chori, 
 Nil proevigentem te genio, et sacri 
 Juris potentem, dedecebit 
 Verba loqui socianda chordis. 
 
DR. SNEYD DAVIES. 
 
 Dti vatis umbroe dent requiem, croco 
 Spirante in urna, qui didicit privis 
 Virtute vim proebente, Phasbi 
 Digna lyra resonare versu. 
 
 Nec ulla Musis gratior est lyra 
 Quam quae protervis abstinet a modis, 
 Moresque sustentat caducos 
 Auspicio melioris aevi. 
 
 At vate ab illo laurea decidat, 
 Utcunque felix, qui vitiis heri 
 Venalis inservit superbi, 
 
 Immeritam famulus per aulam. 
 
 Musis amici spiritus altior 
 Salve Maronis ! — jure tulit suum 
 Te penua, quae nescivit aulse 
 Blanditiis animosa solvi. 
 
 Hunc nuda Virtus prosequitur ; piis 
 Hunc lachrymarum muneribus Fides, 
 £t flore multo, Gratiarum 
 Accumulat soror omnis urnam. 
 
 Nec parce vense tu simili et suae 
 Marone adempto — Te pietas vetat 
 Latere in umbra ; desine abdi, 
 Virgineum excutiens pudorem. 
 
 Longe procellis da trepidos metus 
 Portare ; felix, et patriae, et tibi 
 Succedat annus ; nec per asvum 
 Deficiant nivei colores ! 
 
238 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 The modesty of Davies induced him to write 
 upon this Letter, as the motto, " Non tarn de me, 
 " quam supra me as if he had said, " this poetical 
 effusion is to be considered rather as the eulogy of a 
 partial friend, than as a delineation of me." 
 
 "Where Phelps acquired the charm of his musical 
 talent and power, does not appear. But I never can 
 forget the impression of them upon me. It struck 
 me that he was a perfect master of the science, that 
 he had the most admirable voice of the kind I ever 
 heard, a deep and mellow tone, with a taste not in- 
 ferior to it. When I saw him, I thought him built 
 for a century ; — he had a handsome countenance 
 and figure. 
 
 It has been supposed that his music introduced 
 him to the Earl of Sandwich, and it is probable 
 enough ; but it has been added invidiously — that 
 Phelps " nimium dilexit amicum;" in other words, 
 that it was the suicide of late hours and convivial 
 frolics ; — but especially when they were engrafted 
 upon all the leisure he could obtain from the desk 
 vvlien he v/as Under Secretary of State, and Lord 
 Sandwich his Principal — that he was all day occupied 
 in his official toil ; for which he consoled himself, 
 and his principal with him, by roaring and reveling 
 all night. 
 
 Such is party, and the vulgar estimate of character. 
 That Lord Sandwish was convivial to a fault, when 
 disengaged from his public trust, it would be abject 
 flattery to dispute: but his enemies, if they knew 
 him, would admit that in all the offices he filled he 
 was exemplary in attentions and in talent ; with a 
 power, and with a habit of discernment, that would 
 never have chosen a man to be his deputy in a public 
 trust because he had a good voice, and sang well. 
 
 I was not acquainted with him, but often met him 
 at the Catch Club ; and with all my recollections in 
 prose and verse that record his intemperate mirth, 
 I never saw a conduct in him that was not perfectly 
 
 suitable 
 
MR. RICHARD PHELPS. 
 
 Suitable to the dignified manners of a gentleman, 
 though animated by comic humour, as a performer 
 in catches which demanded comic effect : — And I 
 perfectly recollect, as I have already intimated, that 
 Mr. Phelps had the appearance of perfect health 
 when I saw him two or three years before his death. 
 When I add, that a Bishop, whom to name is to ho- 
 nour his birth and his rank in the Church, the Bi- 
 shop nj' Durham, accompanied him in visits to the 
 late Mr. Neville ; this obloquy, I trust, will be no 
 more. 
 
 Upon this gentleman's travels I have made up a 
 final and correct opinion. It is — that he never tra- 
 velled at all, and that he was three times abroad; 
 — that he had no pupils, and that he had three. 
 
 I have an obliging Letter from the celebrated Mr. 
 Uvedale Price, Author of the Essay on the Pictu- 
 resque, as accomplished a person as any of this age, 
 in which are these slight, but valuable, notices upon 
 the subject of Mr. Phelps. They will speak for 
 themselves. 
 
 " I was not acquainted with Mr. Phelps till his 
 
 constitution and his voice had been much im- 
 " paired, and my short acquaintance with him soon 
 " ended with his life. 
 
 " Bv what remained of his voice, even to the last, 
 " it must have been a very fine one. 
 
 " I have always heard him spoken of as a man 
 " highly esteemed and beloved on various accounts : 
 *' I am persuaded that his Letters from Italy must 
 " be very interesting." 
 
 Ladi; Cornivall says, " With Mr. Richard Phelps 
 " all my family were in habits of the greatest inti- 
 " macy. He was a most popular companion, and £ 
 " have always heard him highly spoken of as a 
 " scholar. In modern languages and in music he 
 " excelled extremely." 
 
 In the following Letter the Reader will compare 
 him to that masterly Painter, the late 3Ir. Eustace, 
 
 the 
 
240 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 the Marcellits of his day. We had but seen him 
 before he left us the melancholy office to deplore the 
 loss of so high-spirited and so accomplished a genius 
 — to cherish his remains — and perpetuate his fame! 
 I cannot forbear to add, however, that in this Let- 
 ter Phelps makes Mr. Eustace appear in a subordi- 
 nate light, as a careless observer and superficial rea- 
 soner, as I shall have occasion to demonstrate. 
 
 Cojn/ from the original in my possession, G. H. 
 " Dear Rector, Rome, July 10, 1751. 
 " Perhaps you may by this time be Mr. Arch- 
 " deacon, Mr. Chancellor, Mr. Residentiary, &c. ; 
 " but, whatever titles you possess, or may acquire, 
 " including Prelacy itself, I hope you will always 
 " hold Kingsland in commendam ; which a little sa- 
 " vours of self-interest. I remember too well the 
 " many agreeable hours I have passed there ; and if 
 " you will just allow me a little of Dr. Bentleys 
 " comment, that is, if you will agree that terrarum 
 " has the sense of Britanniarwn, I sincerely can 
 *' say with Horace : 
 
 " Ille terrarum mihi prceter omnes 
 
 " Angiiliis ridet. 
 
 " I am but just returned from an expedition into 
 " tlie country, and amongst other places have been 
 " examining pretty carefully what I call yourfi'iend 
 " Horace's villa. 
 
 " I have had a notable dispute with a learned Ro- 
 " man, who is an absolute sceptic in antiquities, and 
 " carries this point so far as even to doubt if there 
 " ever existed such a man as Augustus, &c. 
 
 " However, lately, finding the molUa tempora, I 
 " prevailed upon him to allow that such a man as 
 " your friend has existed : moreover, that he actually 
 
 wrote all those Odes, &c. which are attributed by 
 " the moderns to him. Upon this I advanced a 
 " little step further, and I asked him what he 
 " thought of that palace in Tivoli (anciently Tibur) 
 
 " which 
 
MR. RICHARD PHELPS. 
 
 241 
 
 " which Antiquaries have agreed in general to name 
 " Horace's villa. He replie<l, that, in opposition to 
 " his usual diffidence, he icoitld allow that Horace 
 
 had a villa, or farm, in some place or other, because 
 " he talks of such a thing in one of his Epistles; 
 " but, if T had not surprized him in a merciful hour, 
 " lie had arguments enough by him to shew, and 
 " prove, that Horace was only bantering, and that 
 " he never possessed one foot of land in his life. — =• 
 " ' However,' continued he, ' I have allowed you 
 " ' thus far, and scorn to retract ; but how he came 
 " ' into possession of property in Tihur, I think no 
 " ' man who has not the cacoethes of Antiquaries 
 " ' would ever dream.' Upon this we entered into 
 " a pitched battle and smart engagement. I at 
 " length obliged him to advance one step further in 
 " concession, and grant me that Horace had a farm 
 " in the Sabine country. After this bold flight of suc- 
 " cess, I grew more unreasonable; and, after having 
 " examined the whole spot most attentively, I corK 
 " vinced myself, though I could not him, that he 
 " had not only a villa near Tivoli, but that I had 
 " found the very scene described in his Epistles. 
 " You will find that my arguments are far from 
 " being mathematical demonstrations; but, slich as 
 " they are, 1 leave them to you. 
 
 " I chiefly insist upon two passages in Horace, 
 " besides the wish 
 
 " ' Tibur Arg^o positum colono.'' 
 
 « The fii-st is, 
 
 " ' Ego, apis Matinee 
 " ' More modoque, 
 " ' &rata carpentis thynia," S(c. 
 
 *' Here, I think, he fairly makes himself more than 
 " a visitor of Maecenas, which is the only argu- 
 " ment I have heard for his being so fond of cele- 
 " brating Tihur upon every occasion. But does he 
 R " not 
 
242 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " not upon this occasion carry a little the air of 
 " ownership ? 
 
 " 'Per laborem 
 " ' Plurimum, circa nemus, uvidique 
 " ' Tiburis ripas, operosa parvus 
 " ' Carmina fingo.' 
 
 But, should we allow that he takes the liberty 
 with his patron's friendship to make his villa in a 
 " manner his own, this next passage demolishes it all 
 " at once : 
 
 " ' Roiiue Tibur amo ventosus, Tibure Romam.'' 
 
 "We may allow a fine gentleman, particularly a man 
 " of genius, to be as fickle as he will, and to be tired 
 " of elegant luxury as fast as he chuses ; but to pitch 
 " upon his protector's villa as one of the scenes in 
 " w hich he is to mark his caprice, is what the ^i- 
 " qiiette of Augustus's court, I fancy, would never 
 *#iTa>« allowed. 
 
 " Thus far we may infer that Horace had some 
 " little abode in Tibur, which he could honestly call 
 " his own, and round or square it as fitted his hu- 
 " mour. 
 
 " Now, then, let us try whether it is practicable 
 " for us to hit upon the identical spot which he has 
 " given to us in one of his Epistles : 
 
 " ' Continui monies, nisi dissocicntur opacd 
 « ' Vallc: 
 
 " This picture is exemplified with such particula- 
 " rity in the Tivoli hills, and in that spot which I 
 " call the villa of Horace, that no other part of the 
 " country can equal it. That spot which I take for 
 " his yarm has most literally the dextriun latus et 
 " laevum, exposed by its position to the morning and 
 " evening sun, its figure being most like a semi-oval. 
 " That formerly there has been a villa there, we 
 " discern by the remains. The Antiquaries have 
 
 " given 
 
MR. RICHARD PHELPS. 
 
 243 
 
 given it the name of Sallust's villa, and have called 
 *' another not very distant from it the villa of 
 
 Horace; to which I can only say that, as conjecture 
 " is the word, what I give to Horace, and they 
 " to Sallust, so expressly conforms to the Poet's 
 *' own description of his own place, that it would be 
 " very particular indeed if there had been two so 
 " very similar. I should rather imagine some of the 
 *• very old Antiquaries mistook the two places. — 
 " That which they give to Horace, but I to Sallust, 
 " has been very magnificent. There is particularly 
 *' a large and a noble aqueduct, that brought water 
 " to this domain over a considerable tract of moun- 
 
 tain ; whereas the other is watered still by a most 
 " beautiful, clear, and powerful spring, exactly as 
 
 your Poet has done us the favour to describe it, 
 " and which, the moment I saw it, I had no manner 
 " of doubt in calling the Pons Blanduslce : 
 
 " ' Te Jlagrantis atrox hora Canicid^e^ U.c. 
 
 " is only applicable to this fountain. 
 
 " In the times of drought the most general and 
 " severe, it has never failed. This fountain too has 
 " been graced with its presiding Nymph, or Deity, 
 " as there are some remains of grotto-work about it ; 
 " though some of the moderns, with piety a little 
 " miscalculated, have strengthened it with brick ! 
 
 and put an old marble sarcophagus there by way 
 " of basin, for the better convenience of men and 
 « cattle. 
 
 " A little below the Tivoli mountains, close to 
 " Quintilius Icarus s villa, is a charming grotto, very 
 " aiitique. It has water at least as limpid as the 
 " fountain I have just mentioned; and this Messrs. 
 " the Antiquaries have called Fons Blandusioe. It 
 *' is, however, let them say what they will, an artifi- 
 cial spring, which, when you are the inmate of this 
 grotto, seems to break out naturally from the rock. 
 " After close inspection, we discovered it to be the 
 R 2 gift 
 
244 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " gift of a subterraneous aqueduct from the spring- 
 " head about a hundred yards higher up. This 
 " aqueduct we detected by observing the sameness 
 " of the water in the spring above and that which is 
 " here presented below. We saw the water from 
 " the height running away in a httle brook five or 
 " six feet wide. This induced us to search more cu- 
 " riously; and amongst the bushes we discovered an 
 " opening into an aqueduct. We immediately hired 
 " a httle boy, who went doAvn with a light, by the 
 " help of which, as the opening was just wide 
 " enough to admit our heads, we saw the course of 
 " the aqueduct, which had commenced at the spring- 
 " head, and proceeded in a direct line to this grotto. 
 
 That spring rises immediately under a part of 
 " Quintiints farms villa. This grotto undoubt- 
 " edly formed a part of his domain * : but w hether 
 " an artificial grotto supplied with water could with 
 " propriety be called a Fons ; or, if it could, whether 
 " Horace would have celebrated it in the same man- 
 " ner that he has commemoratefi a spring wirh 
 " which he had a particular and an appropriate con- 
 " nexion, I leave to your better judgment. 
 
 " You are to observe, that all the scene which I 
 " have thus far delineated lies ujjon the right side of 
 " the river yinio, and consequently in the Sabine 
 " region. 
 
 " Miecenas's villa, on the contrary, lies upon the 
 " Faustine hill, close to the skirts of Tihur ; the via 
 " Tihartiiia running directly under the principal 
 " court of his palace, and consequently the great 
 " arch of the substruction going immediately over it. 
 
 " This piece of magnificence is still in use amongst 
 " other places of the villa which the King of Naples 
 " has built upon the old Hercidaneum. The main 
 " road runs through the very centre of the palace, 
 
 * Surely this acuteness of research is wonderfully ingenious ; 
 and it is entertaining even to those who are not Antiquaries, by 
 the unaffected and lively manner of describing it. 
 
 There 
 
MR. RICHARD PHELPS. 
 
 245 
 
 " There are still great remains of Jhecenas's villa. 
 " It is built of a small hard stone, of the marbled 
 " kind, cut into shajje, so as to form the opus reti- 
 " culatinn. It was encrusted, all over it, by the 
 " richest marble. The lower order, which is the 
 " only remaining one, is an elcf^ant specimen of the 
 " Doric. Those above probably were Corinthian. 
 " This part of the villa, and which was the body of 
 " it, consisted of a magnificent court, which com- 
 " manded three sides of almost a perfect square, 
 " that side omitted which looked at Rome and its 
 " Campania ; so that, more properly, this building 
 " consisted of a front, and the two wings projecting 
 " almost as fiir as was the lengtli of the front. There 
 " a noble arcade ran all round this building, the 
 f arches of which communicated with the area, 
 " Another arcade ran along the outside of the right 
 " wing, which communicated immediately to the 
 " gardens and /yo?«oria described by Horace, whlcli 
 " were watered by the aqueducts from the river 
 " Anio, for that 1 take to be the m.eaning of Ho- 
 " race's ' mobiles rivi *.' 
 
 "The Anio, as you know, falls at once, loses itself 
 " amongst the rocks, and afterwards runs in the 
 *' deep valley below in a picturesque manner, on ac- 
 " count of the little breaks made by the rocks, and 
 " the inequalities that are interspersed. The gar- 
 " dens of Maecenas's were laid out upon the very 
 " high and steep acclivities of this valley, and were 
 " undoubtedly diversified with all the aid that art 
 " could give to them. To this end an aqueduct of 
 " a considerable size was brought from the river im- 
 " mediately before its fall. This work still continues, 
 " and about a hundred yards from its head branches 
 " out into six aqueducts of smaller size. These are 
 " subdivided into many others, that served, as occa- 
 " sion required, for fountains, water-pipes, &c. 
 
 * This exposition is admirable, and is quite new to me. 
 
 " which 
 
246 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " which could be checked or suppHed as might be 
 " necessary. These I should imagine to be the mo- 
 " biles rivi to which Horace alludes. At present 
 " yourfviend TJ/cpcewaA'A' pomaria and superb gardens 
 " are converted into little vineyards and herb-gar- 
 " dens. His magnificent aqueducts are in many 
 " parts of them broken, and the water has worked 
 " a channel by itself as the declivity has directed its 
 " progress. In other parts they are kept in repair, 
 " and serve as olive mills, or make small canals for 
 " the grounds above-mentioned. They afterwards 
 " fall in diiferent and beautiful cascades, making the 
 " Tivoli of this age, of all spots upon the earth 
 " known to me, the most picturesque. 
 
 " Now, having tired you by descriptions which 
 " are likely to afford you ver}' little amusement, 
 " though to reflect upon the scene is very interesting 
 " and agreeable to me; I must only add, that, against 
 " the general rule of travellers, 1 do not mean to dic- 
 " tate, and least of all to you my admired friend, as 
 " presuming upon the advantage which may have ari- 
 " sen from the opportunity of inspecting the scene. 
 
 " I tell you of things just as I find them — to enjoy 
 " your judgment — give it me as freely as I now 
 " scribble to you, following your own opinion as it 
 " naturally occurs, and caring not sixpence for Com- 
 " mentators or Antiquaries. I am, with all truth 
 " and sincerity, dear Rector, 
 
 " Your most faithful and obliged, R. Phelps. 
 
 " My hearty respects to Dr. Cranke.'" 
 
 That a fair comparison may now be made between 
 3Ii\ Phelps and Mr. Eustace, I will here copy from 
 the latter what he has reported from the same topic 
 and scene. 
 
 Magno sejudice quisque tuetur. 
 He shall have the last word — here it is, though 
 I may risk a note or two upon his context. 
 
 " The 
 
MR. RICHARD PHELPS. 
 
 247 
 
 " The fond attachment of Horace to Tibur, 
 united to the testimony of Suetonius, has induced 
 many Antiquaries to imagine that, at some period 
 or other of his hfe, he possessed a httle villa in the 
 " neighbourhood ; and tradition accordingly enno- 
 " bles a few scattered fragments of walls and arches 
 " with the interesting appellation of Horace's villa. 
 
 *' The site is indeed worthy of the Poet. Defended 
 " by a semicircular range of wooded mountains from 
 *' every cold and blustering wind, he might look 
 down on the playful windings of the Anio below, 
 *' discover numerous rills gleaming through the 
 " thickets as they glided down the opposite bank, 
 " enjoy a full view of the splendid mansion of his 
 friend Maecenas rising directly before him, and 
 *' catch a distant perspective of Aurea Ro'ma, of the 
 " golden towers of the Capitol soaring majestic on 
 " its distant mount. But, whatever his ivishes might 
 " be, it is notprobahle that his moderate income per- 
 mitted him to enjoy such a luxurious residence, in 
 " a place so much frequented, and consequently so 
 " very expensive ; and, indeed, the very manner in 
 which those wishes are expressed seems to imply 
 but slight hopes of ever being able to realize them, 
 *' — Tibur S^'c. sit — utinam — imdesi Parcse prohibent 
 " iniquoc. — \i Horace actually possessed a villa there, 
 " the wish was unnecessary, as the event lay in his 
 " power. The authority of Suetonius seems indeed 
 " positive; but it is possible that the same place may 
 " be alluded to under the double appellation of his 
 " Sabine or Tiburtine seat. The Poet, it is true, 
 " often represents himself as meditating his compo- 
 " sitions while he wandered along the plains, and 
 " through the groves, of Tibur : 
 
 *' Circa nemus, uvidique 
 " Tiburis ripas, operosa parvus 
 " Carmina fingo. 
 " But, as he was probably a frequent companion 
 " of Maecenas in his excursions to A?5 villa at Tibur, 
 
 « he 
 
248 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE, 
 
 " he may in those Hnes allude to his solitary rain- 
 bles and poetic reveries. Catullus, a Roman 
 " knight, had fortune sufficient to indulge himSelf 
 in such an expensive residence; and accordingly 
 speaks with much complacency of his Tiburtine 
 " retreat, which, on account of its proximity to the 
 town, he calls suhurhana. Munatius Plancus 
 " also possessed a villa at Tibur, apparently of great 
 " beauty. To this the Poet alludes in that Ode, 
 " where, enlarging on the charms of the place, he 
 " recommends indirectly, and with much delicacy, 
 " to his friend, who, in a moment of despondency, 
 " had resolved upon a voluntary exile, his delight- 
 ful seat at TIbur as a retirement far preferable to 
 " Rhodes and Mitylene, places in those times much 
 " frequented by disaffected or banished Romans'' 
 
 Alas ! I had fondly hoped that I should deposit 
 the preceding statement in the hands of 3Ir, Eus- 
 tace himself, and had begun to copy it for him, 
 when I heard that we had lost that accomplished 
 and brilliant Historian*. 
 
 As we are now upon the subject of Horace's 
 villa, I take the liberty of laying before you an ad- 
 mired criticism struck out by 3Ir. Nicholas Har- 
 dinge^, and adopted implicitly, as I happen to 
 know, by the Patriarch of Commentators, Dr. Bent- 
 ley himself, though not recorded. 
 
 As it has been already mentioned, in p. 654; I 
 will now merely give the hint of it. 
 
 * How little did the learned and worthy Judge foresee that hrs 
 own end was so near approaching ! J. N. 
 
 t I ha^■e latel_v made another disco\ ery of greater value : It is, 
 that Markland commends my Father's critique upon tlie iVe sem- 
 per ; and that Parr countersigns him, as well as Taylor. The 
 passages arc short, but pithy ; and, if you love your Father's me- 
 mory, you will not be angry with me for loving that of mine. — 
 At this moment, I would give the eyes of Argus (if I had them 
 all) to obtain the " Epistola Critica" of Markland to Hare. — G. H. 
 
MR. RICHARD PHKLPS. 
 
 249 
 
 The lines in Horace to Maecenas are these : 
 Eripe te morse, 
 Ne semper udum Tibur, et JEsultc 
 Declive contempleris arvum, et 
 Telegoni]vigz. parricidae. 
 Fastidiosam desere copiam, et 
 Molem propinqnam nubibus arduis : 
 Omitte mirari beatas 
 
 Fumum et opes strepitumque Roma'. 
 
 The Reader will be astonished when I tell him 
 that, as the words now appear, accompanied by our 
 knowledge of the scene, it is perfect ridicule and 
 folly. 
 
 To familiarize it, it is just as if I should say to 
 some great man who lived in town, or near it, " Come 
 to me, that you may not always contemplate Eslicr, 
 Hampton Court, and Richmond." 
 
 The scenery which the Poet here describes, as that 
 which he exhorts Mcecenas to contemplate no more 
 for a time, is the very scene for which he invites him 
 to leave town, and visit him, who (it seems agreed) 
 had a villa in Tibur, unless this Ode is to deprive 
 him of it. How then would M(ecenas cease to con- 
 template the udum Tibur, &c. by coming to it? 
 
 My Father proposed (and Bentlei/ approved) in- 
 stead of ne, to read ut ; and then to compress the 
 semper-udum into a single word, marking the peren- 
 nial streams of the Tiburine scene. 
 
 The manner of Bentleys approbation was charac- 
 teristic of his wit, his memory, and his familiar ha- 
 "bits, which tempted him to put a modern thought 
 into Latin, or Greek, centuries old. 
 
 Mr. Townslieyid, the Hrst Fiacount Sijdneys fa- 
 ther, and Mr. Hardinge's intimate friend, stated the 
 remark and the correction to Dr. Bentley. 
 
 " Good," said he, " very good ! — and sound; but 
 that Hardinge is a Ki)ig's-mdn. ! — is he not ? — 
 
 Those 
 
2',0 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Those Kings-men are bad fellows — not one, or ano- 
 ther, but all of them — except Hardinge — and Har- 
 dinge is a King's-man /" 
 
 He immediately recollected an epigram of Phti- 
 cylides, which he repeated, laughing all the time: 
 
 'Q.g STTS ^uxuXiOig' Auoioi xaxoi' ex b jx=v og re 
 Uavrsg — xsJ.rjV ITcoJcXjaf * — xai IIoo;<A=7]g Aooiog. 
 
 I have attempted the image in English rhime : 
 I hate those Lyricks — 'they are trump' ry men — 
 It is not one, or two, or nine in ten, — 
 I hate 'em all, Phucylides exclaim'd. 
 Except that Procles, whom you just have nam'd : 
 He 's an exception to the worthless crew ; 
 And yet, that Procles is a Lyric too. G. H. 
 
 If you and I, my incomparable Coadjutor, should 
 reach the page * in which the Letter of Richard 
 Phelps and the Journal of Eustace are compared, I 
 have to request that, after you have introduced my 
 Father's critique, and closed it, you will add these 
 words, upon a curious problem at issue between 
 Phelps and Eustace; but in which I conceive the 
 former to be indisputably the better Classic of the 
 two. 
 
 Mr. Phelps, in this lively, but clear and sensible 
 account, wants no help from those who may adopt 
 his opinion, much less would mine be of use; but I 
 think him so clearly in the right, that I cannot help 
 suggesting a reply or two upon the objections of Mr. 
 Eustace, and a fair appeal to the Reader upon the 
 union of all the passages which refer (as I at least 
 conceive) to the villa near Tihur. 
 
 * The benevolent Writer did not live to see this page printed j 
 and his Coadjutor very narrowly esca))ed from a most sdarming 
 illness as this sheet was passing through the press. J. N. 
 
 Both 
 
MR. RICHARD PHELPS. 
 
 Both of these gentlemen are so far hypevcritics, 
 that what is the vulgar tradition of the local and of 
 the ruins obtains no credit from eitlier of them — 
 and whether Mr. Phelps makes out a tolerable con- 
 jecture as to the real spot, is no question before us. 
 
 But I wish to say a word upon the general ques- 
 tion, wliether it appears from Horace himself that 
 he had ntiy villa near Tibur. 
 
 The first objection of Mr, Eustace appears to me 
 rather colourable than solid, 
 
 " He ivishes for it" says the Writer, " and a naan 
 " does not wish for that which he has." 
 
 He then gives the following passage, and which it 
 appears to me that he has perfectly misunderstood 
 in more views than one. 
 
 Tibur, Argoco positum coiono, 
 Sit meae sedes UTINAM senectEe; 
 Sit modus lasso mavis, et viarum, 
 
 Militiccque. 
 Unde si Parc.e prohibent iniqu^, &f. 
 
 He does not (as of course) wish to possess it as a 
 new acquisition ; for, if he had it, the words could be 
 reconciled with his wish to retain it in Ids old age 
 — and what he deprecates may be the loss of it, by 
 violence, or fraud, or poverty. If the words, how- 
 ever, could be so reconciled, that sense would be due 
 to them (as determining the construction) which 
 corresponds to other passages in the same Poet, that 
 he may be consistent with himself. 
 
 But, excluding at present even that argument, I am 
 surprized at the want of attention to this very Ode 
 in particular, which alone can have misled so acute a 
 mind as that of Mr. Eustace. 
 
 The Ode refers evidently to the scene as that 
 which the Poet then possessed, and from which, on 
 account of his partiality for it, he wished never to 
 be removed by the Fates. 
 
 It 
 
252 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 It is an Ode addressed by him to his friend Tiiius 
 Septimius, his brother-officer in early days, who, 
 as it should seem from the context, had invited him 
 to his villa near Tarentum, a favourite retreat of the 
 Romans who were expatriated either by their fears 
 or their independent spirit. 
 
 He begins by telling him that he knows his friend 
 would accompany hi)n to the remotest and wildest 
 part of the world : 
 
 Septimi, Gades aditure niecum, et 
 Cantahruin indoctum juga ferre nostra, et 
 Barbaras Sijrtes, ubi Maura semper 
 -(Estuat unda : 
 
 Of course he should be equally desirous to accom- 
 pany his friend : but he means to decline it, and he 
 is to give the reason for it, which is, that he wishes 
 for??o Tarentum, unless driven from Tibur. The 
 Ode in any other sense would be unintelligible, and 
 the wish for Tibur absurd, especially with a refer- 
 ence to his old age, which had not then arrived. 
 
 The very second stanza introduces the wish that 
 he may end his days in Tibur, a scene which, if he 
 had it, he could not without inconvenience desert, 
 or perhaps without peril of losing it. But it is very 
 natural that, after expressing a wish to retain it, he 
 should pay his friend's taste the compliment, and 
 should give Tarentum the second place, which he 
 does throughout the sequel of the Ode — marking 
 that Septimius was there, and was likely to be there 
 if Horac E could reach him — losing Tibur by force. 
 The words — 
 
 Ille te mecum locus, et beatae 
 Postulant arces. 
 
 There he tells him they would live together, and 
 his friend would close his eyes. All the Ode except 
 
 the 
 
MR. RICHARD PHELl'b. 
 
 ^53 
 
 the first and second stanza is one of Horaces grace- 
 ful compliments to his friend's preference of Taren- 
 tum. The Editors and Commentators Call at least 
 whom I liave readied) f^ive this interpretation, which 
 makes the Ode consistent and proper. 
 
 The next objection of Mr. Eustace appears to me 
 an extraordinary one: " It was too beautiful a scene 
 " to be in the reach of Horace's purse ; for it was 
 " crowded ivith villas, and must have been too pro- 
 " digal a luxury for him." 
 
 In the first place, how can 3'Ir. Eustace conv'mce 
 me that Mcccenas could not have allotted a little 
 nook for him near his own villa — if it is clear that 
 he had one, as tradition reports — or, if he had not, 
 could not have paid the rent of a little cottage in this 
 romantic scene for his friend ? 
 
 But 3-Jr. Eustace must have read Horace curso- 
 rily, if a passage which completely refutes this remark 
 eluded his critical eye. 
 
 1 Epist. ill. 44. 
 Parvumparva decent : milii jam non regia Roma, 
 Sed VACUUM TiBUR placet, autimbelle Tarentum. 
 
 " Vacuum (says the note) ob paucos incolas atque ob 
 " otium — dilogwf. B. 
 
 By the way, this very Epistle shews two things : 
 1. the liberality of Maecenas to his Poet; and 2. 
 that Horace, who is invited by him into the coun- 
 try, could not have invited him to the neighbour- 
 hood of Tibur. 
 
 The key to all the passages which point at the 
 villa suggested by Mr. Eustace, and in which others 
 had anticipated him, has been taken from them by 
 Mr. Phelps, without effort, and with no spirit of 
 litigation or self-conceit. The 
 
 Eomee Tibur amem venlosux, Tiburc Bomam, 
 is too cavalier for Horace, considered only as a guest 
 oi Mcecenas (which, by the way, it never appears that 
 
 he 
 
254 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 he was) ; but it is very intelligible with a reference 
 to a town residence and a country one capriciously 
 exchanged, which is the turn of tiie passage. In all 
 these cases the context is the best key. 
 
 It is a low-spirited Letter to Celsus Alhinovaniis. 
 He describes himself^ in the most elegant language — 
 
 J'ivere nee recte ncc suaviter — 
 
 not, says he, that my vineyards are crushed by the 
 hail, or the heat has bit my olives ; not that my 
 herds are sick in a distant field (so that he had pro- 
 perty) ; but it is because I am worse in health of the 
 mind than in that of the body. I will not hear, I 
 will not learn, what may relieve this complaint. I 
 am ofiended with my ph3'sicians, and quarrel with 
 my best friends. " At Rome I wish for Tibur — 
 " when AT Tibur I wish to be at RomeT How can 
 this point at any Tibur but his own? 
 
 But I have another passage from Horace which 
 may illustrate the subject. Mr. Eustace observes, 
 that Tibur, as a generic description, might reach the 
 Sabine territory, and quotes from Catullus to that 
 effect. 
 
 But I think it is clear that, e coyiverso, the Sabines 
 would embrace Tibur, if credit is given to Horace 
 himself', Carm. lib. III. iv. 22. 
 
 Vester, Camcenae, vester in ARDUOS 
 TOLLOR Sabinos : SEU milii frigiduai , 
 Prceneste, seu Tibur supinu.m, 
 Seu liquidae placuere Bai^e. 
 
 Here Tibur, and so described (by the epithet ^w/?/- 
 imm) as to be the modern Ticoli, is represented as a 
 feature of the Sabine territory : and these lines 
 mark (as well as all the rest) that he had a some- 
 thing of his own in that part of the world. 
 
 Dr. Bentley has dated all Horaces works. 
 
 According to /(mz,the Ode expressing the icish was 
 written when he was 40, or 41; years of age. 
 
 The 
 
MR. RICHARD PHtLPS. 255 
 
 The Epistle which commends the vacuum Tihur, 
 and that lu which he marks the levity of his choice 
 and love between Tibur and Rome, he ascribes to the 
 46th year of his age. 
 
 Having stated these preliminary comments, and 
 referring to the passages already enumerated, I add 
 the following : 
 
 Pindarum quisquis studet aemulari, &c. 
 
 This Ode was written when he was 50 years of 
 age, as Bentley calculates. 
 
 In this high-spirited and sublime Ode, having 
 been challenged by Julius A ntonius to emulate Piiv- 
 dar in celebrating a victory of Augustus, he affects 
 to decline it, speaks of his model in terms of rapture, 
 and then produces the miniature of his own powers 
 in this exquisite passage : 
 
 Multa Dircteum levat aura cycnum, 
 Tendit, Jntoni, quoties in altos 
 Nubium tractus. Ego, apis Matinoc 
 More modoque, 
 
 Grata carpentis thyma per laborem 
 Plurimum, circa nemus, uvidique 
 TiBUKis ripas, operosa P.\RVUS 
 Carmina fingo. 
 
 But why in Tibur, and so hard at worh, if he had no 
 RESIDENCE there r 
 
 At the very same period he writes another Ode, no 
 less beautiful : 
 
 Quem tu, Melpomene, seme), &c. 
 
 He begins with a magnificent dloge upon himself 
 — as a Bard — not that he is in a military car, and 
 shewn to the Capitol : 
 
 Sed 
 
f2^& ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Sed qu£E TiBUR aql'.e fertile perfluiint, 
 Et spissaR nemorum comae, 
 Fingent iEolio carmine nobilem. 
 
 But why are those icaters to have the monopoli/ 
 of hhfome 9 
 
 In Cani). I. vii. he gives Tibur the choice and 
 preference of his own taste: 
 
 Me nec tarn patiens Lacedacnioii, 
 Nec tarn Zar/iivr percussit campus opimae, 
 
 Qiiam donius Albune^e resonantis, 
 Et praeceps ^.//u'o, et TiburniXncus, et uda 
 Rlobilibus pomaria rivis. 
 He advises Plancus to make his (Pla)7Ciis's) villa 
 there the seat of his retirement from Rome, and 
 (with his favourite advice) to bury sorrow^ in wine ; 
 and then he will be sure to do well, in camp or at his 
 own villa: and here the expression seems emphatical, 
 TiBURis umbra xui. — But why tui, unless Horace 
 had a villa there too ? 
 
 The construction put by Mr. Nicholas Hardinge 
 upon the Ne semper udum Tibur is confirmed by all 
 the preceding passages ; for it is clear that he invites 
 M,ECENAS to his villa as a guest : 
 Jamdudum apud ME est. 
 Pauperum coenae, &c. 
 
 To resume this delightful Correspondent : 
 There is an earlier Letter of Phelps to Davies, 
 from Vienna, with no year annexed, but from 
 the context I guess it was in 1750. He there 
 says, that he has been abroad almost one year, so 
 that he commenced his travels in 1 749. It is so en- 
 tertaining, that I cannot forbear to make further 
 demands upon your patience and predilection. 
 
 " Dear 
 
MR. RICHARD PHELPS. 
 
 257 
 
 " Dear Sir, Fienna, Sept. 22 (probably 175O.) 
 
 " I have been abroad now almost a full year, and 
 " begin to think it infill time to lay before you some 
 " little account of what 1 have seen. As you love 
 
 to be at the fountain-head, 1 shall carry you 
 " immediately to Rome, where I have spent the 
 " greatest part of my time, and yet much too little 
 " for a thorough examination of all the Plrtu. 
 " I hope, however, to return in a mortth or two, 
 " when I shall endeavour to acquire a more accu- 
 " rate knowledge of its antiquities, and of its mo- 
 " dern beauties. Its present walls, built, some An- 
 " tiquaries tell you, others repaired, bv Belisa- 
 " rius, are fifteen miles in circuit; but, as the city is 
 " in many parts iilled up with vineyards, gardens, and 
 " waste ground, the number of inhabitants bears no 
 " proportion to so wide a circumference. It is no 
 " difficult enterprize to ascertain thegirdieof theO/// 
 " City. The ^gger Tarqu'inii is very discernible ; 
 " and from thence you may observe all the way 
 " round that they built the wall as the ground fa- 
 " voured them, in order to make it more defensible ; 
 " whereas that which now appears is built without 
 *' any view to such an advantage, and seems to be 
 " run up in haste. The numerous ruins in the 
 " town have raised the earth so much, that the Seven 
 " Hills have lost much of their distinct appearance, 
 " though the Capitol, where it has not been sloped 
 
 on purpose for the convenience of ascent, still 
 " shews you how strong it must have been formerly, 
 " and how much higher than the parts round it. 
 
 "The Antiquary who attends you in your course 
 " is an Englishman, and bred up all his life in the 
 " Pope's galleys. He is, of course, about as equal to 
 " the office he undertakes, as he would be to that of 
 " Lord High Admiral in England! However, he 
 " serves to shew you the undisputed antiquities, 
 " just as the man at f Westminster Abbey serves to 
 " shew the tombs. He carries you to the two dilfer- 
 s " ent 
 
258 ILLl'sTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " ent parts of the Capitol, and leaves you to chiise 
 '•' one of tlieui for the 'Jaipeian rock. As the situa- 
 " tion has been exactly delineated by the Histo- 
 *' rians, you easily distinguish the real one. The 
 " ground under both has been much filled up ; but 
 " there is even still such an ample space remaining, 
 " that if the good Bishop of Salishuri/ had himself 
 
 tried the experiment of jumping down, as he as- 
 " siires us that any one could have safely done, I am 
 " afraid we should have lost an excellent * Histo- 
 
 rian. The Capitol, as it was formerly the main 
 '• strength of Rome, is even still one of its principal 
 " ornaments. You ascend by a gentle slope between 
 " balustrades into a large cortile, where you com- 
 " inand a very handsoine building in front, between 
 " two wings. I'his front building contains offices, 
 " &c. for certain magistrates of the City; and the 
 " wings are the magazines, if that is not a degrading 
 " word, for the antique statues, busts, and sculp- 
 " tures of all kinds. The Pope of the day has been 
 " at some expence in making additions to them, and 
 " ni ranging them with a more accommodating re- 
 " gularity. 
 
 " In tiie n)id(lle of the court stands the famous 
 " equestrian statue of 3Jarcus Ain-elius: it is of 
 " gilt brass, and is conceived in a remarkablv fine 
 " taste. Fioin the place where it was found, and 
 *• from its perfect preservation, it was supposed never 
 " to have been erected, when it was found that nn- 
 " der the horseman's left arm was a cornucopia:', the 
 '•' fruits and Hewers of which were of wrought gold. 
 " These, in a figure of so gigantic a size, must have 
 " been of considerable value, and were therefore se- 
 " creted. But as this cornucopicc did honour only 
 " to the Emperor, none to the figure, the iuss of it 
 
 is of no detriment. I have seen many antique 
 " models in miniature by comparison of this beau- 
 
 * Tlic wit of this remark is very neat ; for the " feril of the 
 Historian 'tliscredits him, and makes a bow to him at the same tinu-. 
 
 " tiful 
 
MR. RICHARD PHELPS. 
 
 259 
 
 " tiful statue, and, as I remember, almost all of 
 " them have the cnrnitcnphe. 
 
 " Upon the balustrade that runs along- the front 
 " of the cnrtile are two tropliies in marble, at- 
 *' tributed by some to Mar'nis, by others to Tra- 
 " jan. — The advocates for Trajan object the good- 
 " ness of the work, as too perfect for Mnr'ius's time, 
 " without considering that his trophies were re- 
 " stored by Julius- Cresar, and consequently that 
 "objection falls to the ground: — but I suspect 
 " there are no proofs on either side. Upon the 
 " same balustrade is an antique lapis milliarius with 
 " number one upon it, found in one of the old 
 " ways; but, by the ignorance of one of the workmen 
 
 who found it, and who never marked where it 
 " was found, it is of no use in clearing up the point 
 " from what part of the City the Romans began 
 " their miles, and consequently what the perfect 
 " measure of them was. But I had most occasion 
 " to censure the ignorance of the workmen, in going 
 " up the stairs tliat carry you to the antique statues, 
 " &c. where you are entertained with an antique 
 
 plan of Rome, engraved upon white marble, broke 
 " all to pieces, and fixed upon the wall in every de- 
 " gree of confusion imaginable, and I am afraid be- 
 " yond the power of adjustment by art. It was 
 " found in its regular disposition, though cracked 
 " all through in the pieces that are seen at present ; 
 " and no immediate care being taken to preserve it 
 " in that order, the workmen threw it all in a heap, 
 " which I am afraid the whole Conclave are not able 
 
 to rectify, if you read this paragraph in the 
 ** morning, I wish it may not spoil your dinner, as 
 " I assure you the sight of these Gothic and Cimme- 
 " rian horrors had this very effect upon me. 
 
 " I shall not be able to give you an account of the 
 " celebrated statues and sculptures in the Capitol at 
 " present, having left my notes behind me in Italy. 
 ** Some of the most remarkable 1 can recollect, and 
 
 " shall 
 
260 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " slip.ll set them down without any order as they 
 " happen to occur. 
 
 " The dying Ghidiator, in Grecian taste, and beau- 
 " tifuliy expressed. He has two wounds, one in 
 " his thigh, another in his breast; and is just in the 
 " point of dying. He has a rope round his neck, 
 " in the nature of a collar, to shew that he was a 
 " slave. It has a good effect, as it increases the mi- 
 " sery of his appearance. 
 
 " A large statue of white marble : — It has all the 
 " attitude and form of an Egyptian one, but the 
 " expression and the turn of the limbs ])rnve it of 
 " Grecian, work. It was, in all probability, de- 
 " signed for conveyance to Rome, as it is made so 
 " as to divide in two pieces for convenience of car- 
 " riage. 
 
 " A Flora, lately found, very perfect, and su- 
 " premely beautiful. — But it is idle to give you only 
 " a catalogue without particular descriptions, which 
 " at present I am unable to add. I shall therefore 
 " only mention three articles more : 
 
 " The two first are has reliefs^ and which I think 
 " are in as great jierfection as it is practicable for the 
 " chissel to reach. The first is, Perseus leading 
 " Andromeda down from the rock after he has over- 
 " come and slain the monster. The noble and 
 " manly countenance and gesture of the hero, 
 " softened by the modest loveliness of the rescued 
 
 nymph, arc above all conception. The second is, 
 " Endi/mion asleep, remarkable for the natural grace 
 " of the limbs, and beauty of the attitude. The 
 " last is, the Wolf, and the two Brothers in the act 
 " of sucking her, more remarkable for being, in all 
 " probability, the identical statue which is men- 
 " tioned by Cicero, than for the powers of sculj)ture 
 " displayed in the work. Jf you remember, this 
 j'ricnd of jjours mentions, at least, a similar statue 
 " in brass, but which had been struck with light- 
 
MR. RICHARD PHELPS. 
 
 261 
 
 " ning. The wolfs thigh is melted in such a man- 
 " ner that I cannot see how it could be the effect of 
 " any thing but a sudden blast, and such as light- 
 " ning would produce. It certainly is accomplished 
 " by some operation of fire, and I see not the least 
 " appearance of art in it. 
 
 " As, like a magician, I must consult my books 
 " before I can give you an exact description within 
 " the City, ( will emigrate with you in two direc- 
 " tions, and then I sliall have pretty well tired you. 
 
 " The F'illa 3'Iadama is the first. It stands upon 
 " the top of a hill, two miles from Rome ; and I 
 " think I mav venture to call it, without a colour 
 " of dispute, the villa of Julius Martialis. I dined 
 " in the villa, and, with a Tl/rtrf/a/ in my pocket, I 
 " could have almost sworn that I read his epigram, 
 
 " jugera ])auca Martialis, 
 " Hortis Hexpcridum beaiiora, 
 " Longo Janiculi]\\go recumbuiit, 
 
 " in the very identical spot where he wrote it. This, 
 " however, is curious, that if 1 had gone two hun- 
 " dred yards more to the right, or more to the left, I 
 " had lost all those parts v/hich he describes, and 
 " consequently could not have reached the position 
 " from which he takes the landscape. This epigram 
 *' too clears up an error of the Antiquaries, who place 
 " the Jnniculiim ']\x^t behind the I'atican, and con- 
 " fine it into a very narrow space : whereas, besides 
 " the expression of longo JanicuUjago, if you were 
 " to stand upon the path which they call the Jani- 
 " ciilum, you would be so far from seeing the whole 
 " picture given you by Martial, that you would not 
 " see any one thing in perfection but the Albanos 
 *' Tasculosce colics, which you cannot fail to see, go 
 " where you will. 
 
 " The 
 
262 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 " The other place I mean, is that mentioned by 
 " Horace : 
 
 " Domns Alhuntce resonanti^, 
 " Et prcjDceps Anio, et Tiburni luciis, &c. 
 
 " This is a most beautiful and romantic situation. 
 " Prceceps Av'w is a whole river, that falls down at 
 " once an awful depth, and then branches into 
 " cascades of inferior size for two miles. 
 
 " Near the fall stands the Temple of the Sibyls. 
 " It is of a circular form, and of pretty architecture. 
 
 I think it as beautiful a ruin of the size as I ever 
 " saw. But the domm AUnnie(K resonantis, in Ho- 
 " race, I had never seen till I was shewn the j)lace, 
 *' and even still I do not feel sure that 1 am right. 
 " The Albunea was formerly a grove, but is now 
 " only a barren waste, except what remains of the 
 " sulphureous lake, which is much decreased, and, 
 " perhaps, upon that account many little islands are 
 " formed by the weeds and scum of the water. — 
 " These not only are often consolidated, but from a 
 " long stagnation of the lake, ]oin to the sides, and 
 " contract the margin. The lake has an outlet 
 " through a kind of subterraneous aqueduct, and it 
 " now makes a noise in running through it, so that 
 " when the body of the water was more considerable, 
 "and the aqueduct stuffed up less,, it must have 
 " been more noisy in proportion, which, added to 
 " the horror of a consecrated grove, made them 
 " stile it the Albunea resoyians. 
 
 " There is a passage in Tlrgil which confirms this 
 " interpretation. 
 
 " Lucosque sub alta 
 " Consiilit Albunea, nemoriim quas maxima puro 
 " Fonte sonat, S2evamque exhalatopaca Mephitein. 
 
 "As you have commentators of all sorts and sizes, 
 " I wish you would let me know what they mutter 
 *' upon these passages. Richard Phelps." 
 
 To 
 
[ 263 ] 
 
 To John Nichols, Esq. 
 
 ,^ Walton Grove, 
 
 MV INVALUABLE l-RIEND, j^j^^^ ^g, iSls! 
 
 I am delighted with your Ninth Folume, which 
 contains many interesting articles ; and shall send 
 you some Comments and Corrections. 
 
 From the nature of your Work, much of it will 
 not interest or entertain any but ns Antiquaries ; 
 and may be thought, even as to them, or other and 
 viore 'popular Heroes, too minute. I answer, as 
 your Champion, that all branches of Literature fall 
 within your plan — that where you dig up, as it were, 
 obscure men, it is the most benevolent office, and 
 the most useful to the jjolicy of encouraging the 
 Pursuit of Literature, by the recompence of making 
 the adventurers, who act upon the noblest princi- 
 ])les, not as mercenaries, better known. 
 
 But you owe to me some recompence for the heavy 
 disappointment I have experienced from the delay 
 of the publication of W ray * ; and that recompence 
 is, though it should produce more delay that you 
 should confer upon my ambition the honour of ac- 
 companying Doctor Parr in the same volume:J;. 1 
 
 * The Memoirs of Mr. VVray were intended (both by Mr. 
 Hardinee and myself) to have formed a prominent part of the 
 Ninth Volume of the " Literary Anecdotes ;" and with that view 
 were begun at the press in the Autumn of 1814 ; but, from a 
 vaiieiy of unexpected disappointments experienced by Mr. Har- 
 dingc in bis indefatigable researches, it was more than nine 
 months before the first sheet was actually printed off, and nearly 
 nine montlis more before the whole was finished. In the mean 
 time the Ninth Volume had been completed by other articles. 
 
 t " By no means publish Wkay till it is complete/' was the 
 injunction of more than one Letter. 
 
 X That illuslrious Luminary of Learning has kindly under- 
 taken to favour me with what I shall consider as the brightest 
 ornament of these Volumes ; and 1 still flatter myself that Mr. 
 Hardinge's wishes may be indulged, by the appearance of Dr. 
 Pakr's very interesting comnumicat ion in the same volume with 
 Mr. Haudinge's Memoirs of Sir John Pratt, Earl Camden, 
 and Mr. Nigiiolas Harpinge. 
 
264 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF LITERATURE. 
 
 will bribe you, if I can ; though I have been impu- 
 dent enough to think our friendship ensured your 
 coincidence in all my wishes that are ingenuous — 
 and I think, if I know myself, the ambition to which 
 I allude is that of being accredited as an admirer of 
 Genius and Virtue. My wish to accompany Dr. 
 Parr, and you may tell him so, arises from the 
 enthusiasm which I entertain for his powerful intel- 
 lect, for his classical taste, for his depth of learning, 
 and for his eloquence. 
 
 I have still treasures upon treasures for you ; 
 particularly an admirable composition by Dr. Har- 
 dinge, my uncle, in Latin Iambics. I also mean 
 to give you (apart from Lord Camden's Life) Me- 
 moirs of his wonderful Father Sir JoJin Pratt. 
 They are finished, and wait your commands. 
 
 I could give you some characteristic traits of Dr. 
 Glynn, whom I intimately knew, and of whom I 
 possess many Letters to me, but all of them on a 
 subject of business. 
 
 Remind me of Athenian Stuart and Dr. Good. 
 Yours affectionately, G. Hardinge. 
 
 Printed by Nichols, Son, and Bentlej', 
 Red Lion Passage, Fleet-street, London. 
 
1 
 
 1 
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 CAYLORD 
 
 
 
 
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