Mag. Hisicry »f Clerimont and Arabella. 43 1

give instructions for the settlement; it impossible to avoid the sacrifice, and the old gentleman sent for Ara- After the ceremony, she was conbella, to inform her of his new en- ducted to her lord's house, where, if gagement: but what words can de- pomp, titles, and riches could give scribe her wonder, and the various happiness with a man she did not effects of love, grief; and despair, love, none could have been more whilst Ihe received the charge of happy than Arabella; but in the giving the next morning her hand public joy she seemed discontented, in marriage to a lover she knew no- and broken sighs and dejected thing off In vain were all her tears, looks betrayed the inward sorrowprayers, and intreaties: no re- of her heart, proaches of injustice to Clerimont, Clerimont heard the next day of no arguments of future misery to Arabella's marriage; and after beherself, nor all the soft persuasions ing informed of the particulars, he of a paternal love, could set aside the could not bear to continue in Lonprevailing arguments of grandeur, don, but took post horses immediritle, and riches. Her father was arely for Paris, under all the grief a severe, and would be obeyed, and disappointed lover could bear, haughtily urged, it was nothing , Arabella's husband was good-hubut her duty to comply; he threat- raoured, complaisant, and passionened her with violence if she resisted ately fond of her; preventing every his will, and with an imperious com- wish, by giving her every thing she mand left her in all the anguish of a could desire. But love is very undespairing maiden. Scarce had she just; she could only repay the tenrecovered her senses, when she found derness of her husband with a cold means to fend this nev.* to her indifference; which he perceived, and Clerimont's lodgings; but he was was sensibly affected with, though unhappily gone for a day or two to he knew not she loved any other a country house he had in a neigh- person. He continued his earnest touring village, to order some re- endeavours to please, but without pairs for the better reception of his any success.

Arabella. , At this lime a friend of his arrived

The next morning, which was to from Paris, and told him, without bring her misery and a husband, ar- any design, of the former love of rives, after a night spent in fears, Arabella and Clerimont. He was hope?, and despair; her father en- thunderstruck with the news, and ters her chamber, renews his rea- never enquired more into the cause sons of interest, power, and wealth, of her coldness to him ; he was conbut finds her still inflexible: as he vinced of her virtue, as the was strict knew nothing could move her but in her behaviour, cautious of her persuading her it was her duty, he company, regular in her family, threatened her with the heaviest shewing great respect to him, but curses in case of disobedience. In no tenderness; and he saw with fine, amid the horrors of such a grief, ir was her good fense only, guilt, amid the tender thoughts of not her inclination, which rrrkde her Clerimont, and the fears of a fa- dutiful to him. He admired her ther's curse, she suffered herself to conduct, but complained of his own be dragged to the altar, perceiving bad fortune.

3 K. 2 Amoncr

43 2 Ilrjlary ef Cleriuiont and Arabella. Brit Hh

Among other solitary amuse- My Dear Arabella,

ments, Arabella used to divert her melancholy in designing landfkips, which she did to perfection. In all her designs (herpaffion and thoughts being still fixed on Clerimont) you might find that unhappy lover; sometimes as a despairing shepherd under the covert os a willow ; sometimes as a gay roving swain among a troop of country lasses, just as her hope or- fear dictated. Cleanthes having often seen Clerimont in public places, and knowing his person, felt inexpressible anguish to see the heart of his wife so sensibly affected towards his rival; but he was quite overwhelmed with grief, when he saw her hang these pictures by her bedside, that so her lover, might be the first object that appeared to her when sse waked; and one morning whil* her husband, who deserved the utmost pity, seemed to be fast asleep, he \va« so unhappy to hear her sigh, as she looked on those land skips, and in a passionate tone

cry out, My Thar, Dear Cls

Kimont ! - But even this declaration moved not Cleanthes to siicw any resentment, but, if possible, he redoubled his tenderness, hoping that might wean her from a passion so ill placed.

Almost two years he spent in this condition, without being able to change in the least the heart of his Arabella; when despairing of her love, he resolved to make a campaign in Flanders; where, in a desperate attempt, which he had voluntarily undertaken, according to his-w~ilhes, he received two mortal wounds: he was canied to his tent, where, finding some strength remaining, he called for pen and pap^r, #nd wrote the following letter o her.

•« T Would have said Wise, had I not been convinced that name is hateful to you: as this is the last letter you will ever receive from me, I must ' testify in it my grief for having been the occasion of the misery I am sensible you feel in your losing Clerimout. But had I known, my Arabella, your heart had been- pre-engaged, I would not have parted you from the man you so tenderly lovedr to have joined you to a husoand you could never endure. That I loved you, by my actions you may be satisfied.; but should any doubt remain, thirib what I must have felt, rather than give you any uneasiness in reproaching you,- when I have beheld the happy Clerimont in every picture, in every room, nay, by your bedside, to be the object of your wishes —when I have heard you sigh fo» him, and passionately call for him. —This 1 silently suffered ; I saw you Indulge a passion which you should have strove to stifle.—I wish'd you could have loved me, but wish'd ir* vain. I am now within a few moments of death; and in these latest words, I desire that no uneasy remembrance of what is past, may ever disturb the pleasure which you will soon be at liberty to enjoy with your Clerimont.—Could you have loved me, we both might have been happy; but your first love had made too strong an impression to be erased. You may be happier with Clerimont, but can never have a more loving husband than

Your Expiring CLEANTHES." The news of Cleanthes's death, accompatred with this letter, flung her into an extreme grits; but when his body was brought home


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Poetical PSALM I.

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HOW blest the man, whose lieirt arid ways

The Lord his God vouchsafes t'approve; His mouth is ever nll'd with praise,

And all his soul ovei stows with love:
Partaker of the precious faith,
His soul abhors the sinners path.

If in the judgment feat he stands,
The sword he beareth not in vain J

From filthy bribes he shakes his hands;
The innocent he'll not arraign j

Nor mocks nor scorns with cruel hate,

The man of mean and low estate.

The statutes of ti e Lord he tries,

Which inward life and strength impart;

As frontlets plac'd between his eyes,
And on the tables of his heart

He binds, with reverential awe,

And searches all his sacred law.

To serve his God by day and night,
His feet in swift obedience move;

And fill'd with holy pure delight j
The object of his faith and love,

He worships still, and still obeys,

And walks in all his righteous ways.

He, as a blooming tree shall rise,
Nourished by God's peculiar care,

Walh'd by the streams of Paradise,
His verdant leaf shall flourish fair j

With precious fruits and graces crown'd,

Shall scatter blessings all around.

Not so the sinner daring bold,
•' That vaunts himself against his God,
When he on vengeance (hall take hold,

The guilty race shall feel his rod:
Shall fly as chaff by whirlwinds driven,
Nor dare to lock to God or Heaven.

J. K.


¥ Said, that no longer a slave

To my fair one's caprice I'd remain; But 'twas foolish to think I could brave

Her beauties, or loosen my chain. Can the miser forget his dear pelf?

Can the turtle forsake i's fend mate? Can my heart e'er prevail with itself

The capricious Celinda to hate?

No, surely ; but prudence inspire*, [ihy s Since the nymph's thus refolv'd to seem

Tho' my bosom consume with love's sire«, That my looks to my heart give the lie.

AUGUST. ANODE. 'TPHE garden blooms with vegetable gold, ■*• And all Pomona in the orchard glows.

Her racy fruits now glory in the fun, The wall-enamour'd flowerin saffron blows, Gay annuals their spicy sweets unsold;

To cooling brooks the panting cattle run: Hope, the fore runner of the farmer's gain. Visits his dreams, and multiplies the grain.

More hot it prows, ye fervors of the sky Attend the Virgin—lo! (he comes to hail

Your sultry radiance—Now the God of day [gale Meets her chaste star—be present Zephyr** To fan her bosom—let the breezes fly

On silver pinions to salute his ray; Bride of his soft desires, with comely grace He clasps the virgin to his warm embrace.

The reapers now their shining sickles bear, A band illustrious, and the sons of health!

They bend, they toil across the wide champaign, Before them Ceres yields her flow ing wealths The partridge-covey to the copse repair

For shelter, sated with the golden grain, Bask on the bank, or thro' the clover run, Yetsafe fromsetters,andthc slaughtering gun.

Courtly Augustus, whom the bards rever'd.
Patron of science, and the genial arts,
Nam'd this fair month, which permanent
shall live

Long as his bright idea in our hearts,
And lasting as the monument he rcar'd 1
Like him, ye princes, would ye long

Thro' time's successive stras, thus bestow.
Like him, those bounties, whence your ho-
nours flow.
Myra and I, together in the (hade, [cove.
Where yonder jasmine forms a proud al-
Will taste the cooling sherbet, or-regale
On juicy melons—Will my rosy love
Or there retire ?—or walk this green parade,
And talk of nuptials in thechesnut vale >
Nuptials our hearts.whichihall for ever bind.
While the swain's constant, and the damsel

Mag. Pottlcal Essays > AUGUST, 1764.


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WHAT various revolutions in our art, Since Thespis ft: ll fung ballads in a catt!

By nature fram'd the witty war to wage, And lay the deep foundations of the stage, From hi* own soil that bard his pictures -\

drew: [knew, /

The gaping crowd the mimic features s
And the broad jest with fire electric flew. J
Succeeding times, more polifh'd and refin'd,
To rifcid rules the comic muse confin'd:
Robb'd of the nat'ral freedom of her song,
In artful measures now she floats along;
No sprightly sallies rouse the slumb'ring pit;
Thalia, grown mere architect in wit,
To doors and ladders has confin'd her cares,
Convenient closets, and a snug back stairs;
'Twixt her and satire has dissolv'd the


And jilted humour to enjoy intrigue. To gain tlie suffrage os this polifh'd age, We bring to-night a stranger on the stage: His sire Oe Vega ; we confess this truth, J .est yen mistake him for a British youth. Severs the censure on my seebled pen. Neglecting manners, that she copies men: Thus, if 1 hum or ha, or name report, "Tis Serjeant Splitcause from the Inns of court:

I f, at the age that ladies cease to dance, 1 o romp at Ranelagh, or read romance, I draw a dowager inclin'd to man, Cr paint her rage for China or Japan, 1 lie true original is quickly known, A nd lady Squab proclaimed throughout the town.

B Jtin the following group let no man dare To claim a limb, nay, not a single hair:

hat gallant Briton can be fucli a sot, T nown the child a Spaniard has begot >

IPUOOUE to the samt. Be. item Misi Crantham and Old Wilding, By * Kan of Fajbion.

M. Gr.XJ

"OLD, Sir, Oo rplot concluded, and strict justice done, Le me be heard as counsel for your son. Ac ]uit I can't; I mean to mitigate: -\ Proscribe all lying! what would be the /

sate s Os this and every other earthly state? J Co sider, Sir, if once you cry it down, You'll (hot up ev'ry coffee house in town:

The tribe of politicians will want food; Ev'n now half-famifh'd — for the public good.

All Grub-street murderers of men and fense; And every office of intelligence, [race. All would be bankrupts, the whole lying And no Gazette to publish their disgrace. O.Wild. Too mild a sentence! must the good and great [eat!

Patriots be wrong'd, that booksellers may M. Gr. Your patience, Sir; yet hear another word, [sword:

Turn to that hall where justice wields her Think in what narrow limits you would thaw,

By this proscription, all the sons of law: For 'tis the fix'd, determin'd rule of courts, (Vyner will tell you, nay, even Coke's reports)

All pleaders may, when difficulties rife, To gain one truth, expend a hundred lyes. 0.Wild. To curb this practice, I am some ■ what loath; A lawyer has no credit but on oath. M. Gr. Then to the softer sex some savour show: Leave no possession of our modest No' 0. Wild Oh, freely, ma'am, we'll that allowance give, So that two No'» be held affirmative: Provided ever, that your pish and fie, On all occasions, should be deem'd a lye.

M. Gr. Hard terms! On this rejoinder then I rest my cause: Should all pay homage to truth's sacred laws,

Let us examine what would be the cafe: Why, many a great man would be out of place. [raster restore.

0. Wild. 'Twould many a virtuous chaM. Gr. But take a character from many more. [I submit,

0. Wild. Strong are your reasons; yet, era I mean to take the voices of the pit. Is it your pleasures that we make a rule, » That ev'ry lyar be pioclaim'd a fool, > Fit subjects for our author's ridicule? *


rEvere their task, who, in this critic age. ^ With fresh materials furnish out the stage!

Not that our fathers drrtin'd the comic store;
Fresh characters spring up as hcrerosore —
Nature with novcl'y rt»:cs still abound;
On every fide flesh follies may be feund.


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