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men was universally extolled; but it required years of Another Prussian officer was lodged at the house exertion and severity before Lord Wellington brought of Marshal Ney, in whose stables and coach house he ❘ the British army to its present state of discipline. The found a great number of horses and carriages. He moral discipline of an army has never perhaps been un- immediately ordered some Prussian soldiers, who acderstood by any General except the great Gustavus. companied him, to take away nine of the horses and Even in its best state, with all the alleviations of cour-three of the carriages. Ney's servants violently retesy and honour, with all the correctives of morality monstrated against this proceeding, on which the and religion, war is so great an evil, that to engage in Prussian Officer observed, they are my property, it without a clear necessity is a crime of the blackest inasmuch as your master took the same number of dye. When the necessity is clear, (and such, assuredly, horses and carriages from me when he entered Berlin I hold it to have been in our struggle with Buonaparte,) with the French army.» I think you will agree with it then becomes a crime to shrink from it. me, that the lex talionis was never more properly nor more justly resorted to.

What I have said of the Prussians relates solely to their conduct in an allied country; and I must also say that the Prussian officers with whom I had the good fortune to associate, were men who in every respect did honour to their profession and to their country. But that the general conduct of their troops in Belgium had excited a strong feeling of disgust and indignation we had abundant and indisputable testimony. In France they had old wrongs to revenge,—and forgiveness of injuries is not among the virtues which are taught in camps. The annexed anecdotes are reprinted from one of our newspapers, and ought to be preserved.

room,

"

Note 21, page 533, col. 1.
The Martyr.

Sir Thomas Brown writes upon this subject with his usual feeling.

<< We applaud not,» says he, « the judgment of Machiavel, that Christianity makes men cowards, or that, with the confidence of but half dying, the despised virtues of patience and humility have abased the spirits of men, which Pagan principles exalted; but rather regulated the wildness of audacities in the attempts, grounds, and eternal sequels of death, wherein men of the boldest spirit are often prodigiously temerarions. Nor can we extenuate the valour of ancient martyrs, who contemned death in the uncomfortable scene of

bably lose not many months of their days, or parted with life when it was scarce worth living. For (beside that long time past holds no consideration unto a slender time to come) they had no small disadvantage from the constitution of old age, which naturally makes men fearful, and complexionally superannuated from the bold and courageous thoughts of youth and fervent years. But the contempt of death from corporal animosity promoteth not our felicity. They may sit in the Orchestra and noblest seats of Heaven, who have held up shaking hands in the fire, and humanly contended for glory.» Hydriotaphia, 17.

Note 22, page 535, col. 1.

In purple and in scarlet clad, bebold
The Harlot sits, adorned with gems and gold.

A Prussian Officer, on his arrival at Paris, particularly requested to be billetted on the house of a lady inhabiting the Faubourg St Germain. His request was complied with, and on his arriving at the lady's hotel he was shown into a small but comfortable sitting-their lives, and in their decrepit martyrdoms did prowith a handsome bedchamber adjoining it. With these rooms he appeared greatly dissatisfied, and desired that the lady should give up to him her apart ment, (on the first floor) which was very spacious, and very elegantly furnished. To this the lady made the strongest objections; but the Officer insisted, and she was under the necessity of retiring to the second floor. He afterwards sent a message to her by one of her servants, saying that he destined the second floor for his Aide-de-Camp, etc. etc. This occasioned more violent remonstrances from the lady, but they were totally unavailing, and unattended to by the Officer, whose ouly answer was, « obéissez à mes ordres.»> He then called for the cook, and told him he must prepare a handsome dinner for six persons, and desired the lady's butler to take care that the best wines the cellar contained should be forthcoming. After dinner he desired the hostess should be sent for;-she obeyed the summons. Officer then addressed her, and said, dam, but you consider my conduct as indecorous and brutal in the extreme.»> << I must confess,» replied she, that I did not expect such treatment from an officer; as, in general, military men are ever disposed to show every degreee of deference and respect to our sex.>> «You think me then a most perfect barbarian? auswer me frankly.»> If you really, then, desire my undisguised opinion of the subject, I must say, that I think your conduct truly barbarous.» «Madam, I am entirely of your opinion; but I only wished to give you a specimen of the behaviour and conduct of your son, during six months that he resided in my house, after the entry of the French army into the Prussian capital. I do not, however, mean to follow a bad example. You will resume, therefore, your apartment to-morrow, and I will seek lodgings at some public hotel,» The lady then retired, extolling the generous conduct of the Prussian officer, and deprecating that of her son.

The

The homely, but scriptural appellation by which our fathers were wont to designate the Church of Rome has I have been delicately softened down by later writers. << No doubt, Maseen her some where called the Scarlet Woman,-and

Helen Maria Williams names her the Dissolute of Babylon.

Let me here offer a suggestion in defence of Voltaire. Is it not probable, or rather can any person doubt, that | the écrasez l'infame, upon which so horrible a charge against him has been raised, refers to the Church of Rome, under this well-known designation? No man can hold the principles of Voltaire in stronger abliorrence than I do, but it is an act of justice to exenlpate

him from this monstrous accusation.

Note 23, page 536, col. 1.

For till the sons their fathers' crimes repent, The old error brings its direful punishment. «Political chimeras,» says Count Stolberg, « are innumerable; but the most chimerical of all is the project of imagining that a people deeply sunk in degeneracy are capable of recovering the ancient grandeur of

freedom. Who tosses the bird into the air after his wings are clipped? So far from restoring it to the power of flight, it will but disable it more.»»-Travels, 3, 139.

Note 24, page 536, col. 2.

The lark

Poured forth her lyric strain.

The epithet lyric, as applied to the lark, is borrowed from one of Donne's poems. I mention this more particularly for the purpose of repairing an accidental omission in the notes to Roderick;-it is the duty of every poet to acknowledge all his obligations of this kind to his predecessors.

Note 25, page 538, col. 2.

Public crimes

Draw on their proper punishment below.

I will insert here a passage from one of Lord Brooke's poems. Few writers have ever given proofs of profounder thought than this friend of Sir Philip Sidney. Had his powers of language been equal to his strength of intellect, I scarcely know the author whom he would not have surpassed.

21.

Some love no equals, some superiors scorn,

One seeks more worlds, and this will Helen have; This covets gold, with divers faces borne,

These humours reign, and lead men to their grave; Whereby for bayes and little wages, we Ruin ourselves to raise up tyranny.

32.

And as when winds among themselves do jar,

Seas there are tost, and wave with wave must fight; So when power's restless humours bring forth War,

There people bear the faults and wounds of Might; The error and diseases of the head Descending still until the limbs be dead.

23.

Yet are not people's errors ever free

From guilt of wounds they saffer by the war ; Never did any public misery

Rise of itself: God's plagues still grounded are On common stains of our humanity; And to the flame which ruineth mankind Man gives the matter, or at least gives wind.

A Treatise of Warres.

The extract which follows, from the same author, bears as directly upon the effects of the military system as if it had been written with a reference to Buonaparte's government. The thoughtful reader will perceive its intrinsic value, through its difficult language and uncouth versification:- the fool and the coxcomb may scoff if they like.

59.

Let us then thus conclude, that only they

Whose end in this world is the world to come, Whose hearts' desire is that their desires may Measure themselves by Truth's eternal doom, Can in the War find nothing that they prize, Who in the world would not be great or wise.

60. With these, I say, War, Conquest, Honour, Fame, Stand (as the world) neglected or forsaken, Like Error's cobwebs, in whose curious frame

She only joys and mourns, takes and is taken; In which these dying, that to God live thus, Endure our conquests, would not conquer us.

61.

Where all states else that stand on power, not grace, And gage desire by no such spiritual measure,

Make it their end to reign in every place,

To war for honour, for revenge, and pleasure;

Thinking the strong should keep the weak in awe, And every inequality give law.

62.

These serve the world to rule her by her arts,

Raise mortal trophies upon mortal passion;

Their wealth, strength, glory, growing from those bearts
Which to their ends they ruin and disfashion;

The more remote from God the less remorse;
Which still gives Honour power, Occasion force.

63.

These make the Sword their judge of wrong and right,
Their story Fame, their laws but Power and Wit;
Their endless mine all vanities of Might,

Rewards and Pains the mystery of it;
And in this sphere, this wilderness of evils,
None prosper highly but the perfect Devils.
A Treatise of Warre..

Note 26, page 538, col. 2.

They had the light, and from the light they turned. <«<Let no ignorance,» says Lord Brooke, «seem to excuse mankind; since the light of truth is still near us, the tempter and accuser at such continual war within us, the laws that guide so good for them that obey, and the first shape of every sin so ugly, as whosoever does but what he knows, or forbears what he doubts, shall easily follow nature unto grace.»>

« God left not the world without information from the beginning; so that wherever we find ignorance, it must be charged to the account of man, as having rejected, and not to that of his Maker, as having denied, the necessary means of instruction.»-HORNE'S Considerations on the Life of St John the Baptist.

Note 27, page 539, col. 1. Napoleon.

It is amusing to look back upon the flattery which was offered to Buonaparte. Some poems of Mine Fauny de Beauharnois exhibit rich specimens of this kind: she praises him for

la douce humanité
Qui le dévore, de sa flamme.
Of the battle of Austerlitz she says,

Dans ce jour mémorable on dut finir la guerre,
Et que nommeront maints auteurs

La Trinité des Empereurs,

Vous seul en êtes le mystère.

Subsequent events give to some of these adulatory strains an interest which they would else have wanted.

Napoléon, objet de nos hommages,
Et Joséphine, objet non moins aimé,
Couple que l'Eternel l'un pour l'autre a formé,
Vous êtes ses plus beaux ouvrages,

In some stanzas called Les Trois Bateaux, upon the vessels in which Alexander and Buonaparte held their conferences before the Peace of Tilsit, the following prophecy is introduced, with a felicity worthy of the Edinburgh Review:

Tremble, tremble, fière Albion !

Guidé par d'heureuses étoiles,

Ces généreux bateaux, exempts d'ambition,
Vont triompher par tout de tes cent mille voiles.

The Grand Napoleon is the

Enfant chéri de Mars et d'Apollon,
Qu'aucun revers ne peut abattre.

Here follows part of an Arabic poem by Michael Sabbag, addressed to Buonaparte on his marriage with Ma

rie Louise, and printed with translations in French prose and German verse, in the first volume of the Fundgruben des Orients.

"

August Prince, whom Heaven has given us for Sovereign, and who holdest among the greatest monarchs of thy age the same rank which the diadem holds upon the head of Kings,

<«<Thou hast reached the summit of happiness, and by thine invincible courage hast attained a glory which the mind of man can scarcely comprehend.

<< Thou hast imprinted upon the front of time the remembrance of thine innumerable exploits in characters of light, one of which alone suffices with its brilliant rays to enlighten the whole universe.

« Who can resist him who is never abandoned by the assistance of Heaven, who has Victory for his guide, and whose course is directed by God himself?

<< In every age Fortune produces a hero who is the pearl of his time; amidst all these extraordinary men thou shinest like an inestimable diamond in a necklace of precious stones.

«The least of thy subjects, in whatever country he may be, is the object of universal homage, and enjoys thy glory, the splendour of which is reflected upon him. << All virtues are united in thee, but the justice which regulates all thy actions would alone suffice to immortalize thy name.

« Perhaps the English will now understand at last that it is folly to oppose themselves to the wisdom of thy designs, and to strive against thy fortune.>>

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Nam se deve accusar a Fortuna de cega, mas só aos que della se deixam cegar.» It is not Fortune, says D. Luiz da Cunha, who ought to be accused of blindness,— but they who let themselves be blinded by her.-Memorias desde 1659 athé 1706. MSS.

Lieutenant Bowerbank, in his Journal of what passed
Horace to the same effect, with humorous felicity.
on board the Bellerophon, has applied a passage from

I, Boxe, quo virtus tua te vocat,
Grandia laturus meritorum præmia.

Epist. 11, lib. ii, v. 37.

One bead more in this string of quotations: «Un Roi philosophe,» says the Comte de Puissaye, speaking «A figure of Liberty, which during the days of Ja- of Frederic of Prussia, « dans le sens de nos jours, est cobinism was erected at Aix in Provence, was demo- selon moi le plus terrible fléau que le ciel puisse envoyer lished during the night about the time when Buona-aux habitans de la terre. Mais l'idée d'un Roi philosophe parte assumed the empire. Among the squibs to which et despote, est un injure au sens commun, un outrage this gave occasion, was the following question and | à la raison,»—Mémoires, tome 3, 125.

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TO EDITH MAY SOUTHEY.

I.

EDITH! ten years are number'd, since the day,
Which ushers in the cheerful month of May,
To us by thy dear birth, my daughter dear,
Was blest. Thou therefore didst the name partake
Of that sweet month, the sweetest of the year;
But fitlier was it given thee for the sake
Of a good man, thy father's friend sincere,
Who at the font made answer in thy name.
Thy love and reverence rightly may he claim,
For closely hath he been with me allied
In friendship's holy bonds, from that first hour
When in our youth we met on Tejo's side;

Bonds which, defying now all Fortune's power,
Time hath not loosen'd, nor will Death divide.

II.

A child more welcome, by indulgent Heaven
Never to parents' tears and prayers was given!
For scarcely eight months at thy happy birth
Had pass'd, since of thy sister we were left,—
Our first-born and our only babe, bereft.
Too fair a flower was she for this rude earth!
The features of her beauteous infancy
Ilave faded from me, like a passing cloud,
Or like the glories of an evening sky:

And seldom hath my tongue pronounced her name
Since she was summon'd to a happier sphere.
But that dear love, so deeply wounded then,

I in my soul with silent faith sincere
Devoutly cherish till we meet again.

II.

I saw thee first with trembling thankfulness,
O daughter of my hopes and of my fears!
Press'd on thy senseless cheek a troubled kiss,
And breathed my blessing over thee with tears.
But memory did not long our bliss alloy;
For gentle nature, who had given relief,
Wean'd with new love the chasten'd heart from grief,
And the sweet season minister'd to joy.

IV.

It was a season when their leaves and flowers
The trees as to an Arctic summer spread:
When chilling wintry winds and snowy showers,
Which had too long usurp'd the vernal hours,
Like spectres from the sight of morning, fled
Before the presence of that joyous May;
And groves and gardens all the live-long day
Rung with the birds' loud love-songs. Over all,
One thrush was heard from morn till even-fall:
Thy Mother well remembers when she lay
The happy prisoner of the genial bed,
How from yon lofty poplar's topmost spray
At earliest dawn his thrilling pipe was heard;
And when the light of evening died away,
That blithe and indefatigable bird

Still his redundant song of joy and love preferr'd.

V.

How I have doted on thine infant smiles

At morning when thine eyes unclos'd on mine; How, as the months in swift succession roll'd, I mark'd thy human faculties unfold, And watch'd the dawning of the light divine; And with what artifice of playful guiles Won from thy lips with still-repeated wiles Kiss after kiss, a reckoning often told,Something I ween thou know'st; for thou hast seen Thy sisters in their turn such fondness prove, And felt how childhood in its winning years The attempered soul to tenderness can move. This thou canst tell; but not the hopes and fears With which a parent's heart doth overflow,The thoughts and cares inwoven with that love,Its nature and its depth, thou dost not, canst not know.

VI.

The years which since thy birth have pass'd away
May well to thy young retrospect appear
A measureless extent:-like yesterday
To me, so soon they fill'd their short career.
To thee discourse of reason have they brought,
With sense of time and change; and something too
Of this precarious state of things have taught,
Where Man abideth never in one stay;
And of mortality a mournful thought.
And I have seen thine eyes suffused in grief,
When I have said that with autumnal grey
The touch of eld hath mark'd thy father's head;
That even the longest day of life is brief,
And mine is falling fast into the yellow leaf.

VII.

Thy happy nature from the painful thought With instinct turns, and scarcely canst thou bear

To hear me name the Grave: Thou knowest not
How large a portion of my heart is there!
The faces which I loved in infancy

Are gone; and bosom-friends of riper age,
With whom I fondly talk'd of years to come,
Summon'd before me to their heritage,
Are in the better world beyond the tomb.
And I have brethren there, and sisters dear,
And dearer babes. I therefore needs must dwell
Often in thought with those whom still I love so well.

VIII.

Thus wilt thou feel in thy maturer mind:
When grief shall be thy portion, thou wilt find
Safe consolation in such thoughts as these,-

A present refuge in affliction's hour.

And if indulgent Heaven thy lot should bless
With all imaginable happiness,

Here shalt thou have, my child, beyond all power
Of chance, thy holiest, surest, best delight.
Take therefore now thy Father's latest lay,—
Perhaps his last;-and treasure in thine heart
The feelings that its musing strains convey.
A song it is of life's declining day,
Yet meet for youth. Vain passions to excite,
No strains of morbid sentiment I sing,
Nor tell of idle loves with ill-spent breath;
A reverent offering to the Grave I bring,
And twine a garland for the brow of Death.

PREFACE

ONE of my friends observed to me in a letter, that many stories which are said to be founded on fact, have in reality been foundered on it. This is the case if there be any gross violation committed, or ignorance betrayed, of historical manners in the prominent parts of a narrative wherein the writer affects to observe them or when the ground-work is taken from some part of history so popular and well known that any mixture of fiction disturbs the sense of truth. more so, if the subject be in itself so momentous that any alloy of invention must of necessity debase it: but most of all in themes drawn from scripture, whether from the more familiar, or the more awful portions; for when what is true is sacred, whatever may be added to it is so surely felt to be false, that it appears pro

fane.

Still

Founded on fact the Poem is, which is here committed to the world: but whatever may be its defects, it is liable to none of these objections. The story is so singular, so simple, and withal so complete, that it must have been injured by any alteration. How faithfully is has been followed, the reader may perceive if he chuses to consult the abridged translation of Dobrizhoffer's History of the Abipones; and for those who may be gratified with what Pinkerton has well called the lively singularity of the old man's Latin, the passage from the original is here subjoined:

« Ad Australes fluvii Empalado ripas Hispanorum turma Herba Paraquaricæ conficiendæ operam dabat. Deficientibus jam arboribus, è quibus illa folia rescin

Ab

duntur, exploratores tres emiserant, qui trans illud flu- inde ut formicis, undique scatere. Jam de forma, has men arbores desideratas investigarent. Forte in tugu- bitudine, vivendi ratione, quam in matre, ejusque prorium, agrumque frumento Turcico consitum incidere, libus observaveram, dicendum obiter aliquid. ex quo hanc sylvam barbarorum contuberniis scatere ineunte ætate in Mondag litoribus, culicum, serpentum, perperam arguebant. Hæc notitia tanto omnes perculit aliorumque animalculorum noxiorum frequentia oppimetu, ut suspenso, ad quem conducti fuerant, labore do infectis consedere. Palmarum ramis tuguriolum suis aliquamdiu in tuguriis laterent, ut limax intra definiebatur. Aqua semper latulenta potum; arborum concham. Diu noctuque hostilis aggressio formidaba- fructus, alces, damulæ, cuniculi, aves variæ, frumentum tur. Ad liberandos se hoc terrore cursor ad S. Joachimi turcicum, radices arboris mandio dapem; tela ex foliis oppidum missus, qui, ut barbaros istic habitantes per- caraquatà contexta vestitum, lectumque præbuere. quiramus, inventosque ad nostram transferamus colo- Mel, quod exesis in arboribus passim prostat, inter cuniam flagitavit. Sine tergiversatione operam addixi pedias numerabatur. Tabacæ, quam peti vocant Quameam. Licet trium hebdomadum itinere defunctus ranii, fumum ex arundine, cui ligneum vasculum cacabi Nato servatori sacra die ex Mbaebera domum redierim, instar præfixum, diu noctuque hauserat vetula; filius S. Joannis apostoli festo iter mox aggressus sum cum tabace folia in pulverem redacta ore mandere nunquadraginta Indorum meorum comitatu. Fluviis ob quam desiit. Concha ad lapidem exacuta pro cultro continuatum dies complures imbrem turgentibus pro- utebantur, interdum arundine fissa. Adolescens matris, fectio perardua nobis exstitit. Accepto ex Hispanorum sororisque nutricius bina ferri frustilla, cultri olim tugurio viarum duce, trajectoque flumine Empalado | confracti reliquias, pollicem lata, et pollice nil longiora, sylvas omnes ad fluvii Mondag miri ripas usque atten- ligno, ceu manubrio inserta, cera, filoque circumligata tis oculis pervagati, tertio demum die, humano, quod cingulo gestabat suo. Hoc instrumento sagittas scitisdeteximus, vestigio nos ducente ædiculam attigimus, sime elaborare, decipulas è ligno ad capiendas alces ubi mater vetula, cum filio vicesimum, filiaque quin- facere, arbores, ubi mellis indicium viderat, perfodere, tum decimum annum agente annis abhinc multis de- aliaque id genus præstare solebat. Cum argilla, è qua gebat. Quibus in latebris Indi alii versarentur, à me ollæ conficiuntur, nusquam esset, carnibus assis, nou rogata mater, neminem mortalium præter se, binasque coctis vescebantur per omnem vitam. Herbæ Paraquaproles, his in sylvis superesse, omnes, qui per hanc ricæ folia non nisi frigida perfudere, cum vas, quo viciniam habitaverant, variolarum dira peste dudum aquam recepto more calefacerent, non haberent. Ignem extinctos fuisse, respondit. De dicti veritate ancipi- per affrictum celerem duorum lignellorum norunt tem me dum observaret filius: tutò, ait, fidem adhi- promptissime elicere, omnium Americanorum more, bueris matri meæ ista affirmanti: namque ipsus ego quod alio loco exponam uberius. Ad restinguendam uxorem mihi quæsiturus remotissimas etiam sylvas sitim aqua palustri, semperque, ni ab Austro frigido identidem percursavi, quin tamen vel hominis umbram refrigeretur tantisper, tepida utebantur, cui adferendæ, reperirem uspiam. En! naturæ instinctu adolescens asservandæque ingentes cucurbitæ pro cantharis serbarbarus, conjugium cum sorore sibi neutiquam licere, viunt. Ut, quam curta illis domi fuerit suppellex, intellexit. Is multis post mensibus meo in oppido, porro videas, de eorum vestitu facienda est mentio. nullos præter se homines illis in sylvis degere, iterum, iterumque ingenue mihi asseveravit. Idem confirmarunt Hispani, à quibus evocatus sum, ultra biennium in conquirenda herba dein per illas sylvas occupati, non mediocri cum quæstu.

« Vetulam matrem congruis argumentis hortatus sum ad meum ut oppidum, siquidem luberet, commigraret ocyus, se, suosque meliori fortuna illic usuros, pollici

tus.

Lubenter invitationi meæ obtemperaturam se, respondit; rem unicam migrationi suæ obstare. Sunt mihi, ait, tres, quos coram vides, apri à prima ætate mansuefacti; nos quoquo euntes caniculi more sequuntur. Hi, si campum aridum videant, vel extra sylvarum umbram à sole ardenti videantur, peribunt confestim, timeo. Hanc solicitudinem, quæso, animo ejicias tuo, reposui; cordi mihi fore chara animalcula, nil dubites. Sole æstuante umbram, ubi ubi demum, captabimus. Neque lacunæ, amnes, paludes, ubi refrigerentur tua hæc corcula, usquam deerunt. Talibus delinita promissis se nobiscum ituram, spopondit. Et vero postridie iter ingressi, calendis Januarii incolumes oppidum attigimus, licet per viam binæ fulminibus, imbribusque horrendis fœtæ tempestates nobis incubuerint, ac tigris rugitu assiduo totam per noctem minitans nobis iterum, iterumque propinquarit. Hispanos, queis matrem duabus cum prolibus per transennam exhibui, nihilque omnino Indorum sylvestrium in tota late vicinia superesse, significavi, timoris sui et puduit, et poenituit. Autumaverant equidem sylvas Empalado, et Mondag fluminibus interjectas barbarorum habitationibus, per

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Juveni lacerna è caraquatà filis concinnata è scapulis ad genua utrinque defluebat; ventre funiculis præcineto, è quibus cucurbitam tabacæ pulveribus, quos mandit, plenam suspendit. Rete crassioribus è filis matri lectus noctu, interdiu vestis fuit unica.

« Puellæ pariter breve reticulum, in quo noctibus cubabat, per diem vestitus instar fuerat. Cum nimis diaphana mihi videretur, ut verecundiæ consultum irem in Indorum, Hispanorumque præsentia, linteum gossipinum, quo lotas manus tergimus, illius nuditati tegendæ destinavi. Puella linteum, quod illi Indi mei porrexerant, iterum, iterumque complicatum papyri instar, capiti imposuit suo, ceu clypeum contra solis æstus; verum admonita ab Indis illo se involvit. Juveni quoque, ne verecundos offenderet oculos, perizomata linea, quibus in itineribus contra culicum morsus caput obvolveram meum, invito obtrusi. Prius celsissimas | arbores simii velocitate scandebat, ut fructus ab apris tribus devorandos, inde decerperet. Caligis, veluti compedibus impeditus vix gressum figere potuit. Tanta rerum penuria, frugalitate tanta cum in solitudine victitarent semper, ac anachoretarum veterum rigores, asperitatesque experirentur, sorte sua contentissimos, tranquillo animo, corporeque morborum nescios illos suspexi. Ex quo palam fit, naturam paucis contentam esse; erubescant illi, quibus saturandis, ornandisque totus orbis vix sufficit. Ex ultimis terræ finibus, ex oceani, sylvarum, camporum, montium, tellurisque gre mio, ex elementis omnibus, et unde non? avide petantur subsidia, quæ ad comendum corpus, ad oblectandum

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