I returned into Devonshire, and lived upon my estate, without meddling with my ready mony, which I reinstated in the stocks, and there left it to accumulate. I faw no company for the first fix months I came down, but my acquaintance the vicar and his family, and with them only, and my favourite fervant, whom I had put upon the footing of my companion, more than a dependant, did I once more recover my tranquillity; and fuch was the effect of high health and Spirits in me, that when I was entirely recovered, and my complexion efta blished, I used now and then, when I look'd at myself in the glass, think that I was yet too young to bury myself fo entirely from the world.

This was alfo what my Companion would fuggeft; but I anfwer'd her always in the common-place cant, that happiness is contentment, and we shou'd not give encouragement to our wishes, the events of which may be dangerous, and that innocence and temperance was the only state of joy among mortals for I wou'd philofophife as well as Seneca. But now, how I despise their unfeeling declamations; how eafy is it for affluence, lolling on a fofa, in a well warmed room, the floor carpet fpread, and every fide of the place where he is repofing beaming taste and fplendor. How eafy, is it for fuch a one to reafon upon the hardships of life, and talk of the charms of philofophy, and that philofophy will teach you to bear them, and that philofophy is an antidote to adverfity, and that philofophy ishang up philosophy. or give it the infolvent, who wanders wethod along the street in a wet winter's night, and see what he'll fay to it. Enquire

of nature after philofophy; her answer will be, that the quack reason has hired him to be his merry andrew, but for her own part fhe keeps no fuch company.

One day Mr. Dernly, that was the vicar's name with whom I had lived in the Southams, calling to see me, and the converfation happening to be on the ill ufage I had received from my hufband. He begged to know, what my husband meant by his inuendo in the letter to him, of what I had been formerly.

I was in one of thofe communicative moods, which perhaps reader you may have at times been seized with, viz. the pleasure of Speaking about yourself.

I related to him the most material tranfactions of my life. As I had always, from his deportment, from the manner in which he brought up his family, and from the very particular and fubmiffive manner in which he always behaved to me, thought no inquietude could happen to me, from his knowing what I had been formerly. No inquietude indeed of confequence did happen from it; but I loft a friend, a fincere friend by it, and gained -a lover-a fulfome admirera gallant turned of forty-a father of children. — Clergymen are liable to be tempted as well as laymen; but I no more fufpected, that he would ever affume the man of intrigue with me, than I did, that I would ever grant him the last favour.

But from the day I acquainted him with what I had been, his manner of talking to me was in a lefs respectful ftile than usual.— I caught him several times glaring at me, with eyes that to me too well spoke what he wished for. When we were together, he fought every occafion of taking hold of my hands, of playing with them, and in about a fortnight after relating to him my life, he used to make as free with my lips, as if he had really been married to me.

But every trivial advance of this fort which I permitted, was not out of an extraordinary inclination or liking to the man, the particular man whom I fuffer

ed

The fools grow frantic, in their pride
Contemning all the world befide:
Pleas'd with the gewgaw toys of pow'r,
The noify pageant of an hour,
Struts forth the statesman, haughty,vain,
Amidst a fupple servile train,

With fhrug, grimace, nod, wink, and ftare,

So proud, he almost treads in air; While levee fools, who fue for place, Crouch for employment from his grace, And e'en good bishops, taught to trim,

Forfake their God to bow to him.

粤

The poet in that happy hour,

Imagination in his pow'r,

Walks all abroad, and unconfin'd,

Enjoys the liberty of mind :
Dupe to the smoke of flimzy praise,
He vomits forth sonorous lays ;
And, in his fine poetic rage,
Planning, poor foul, a deathlefs page,
Indulges pride's fantastic whim,
And all the World muft wake to him.
A while from fear, from envy free,
He fleeps on a pacific fea;
Lethargic Error for a while
Deceives him with her fpecious fmile,
And flatt'ring dreams delufive shed
Gay gilded visions round his head,
When, swift as thought, the goddess
lewd

1

Shifts the light gale: and tempefts rude,
Such as the northern fkies deform,
When fell Destruction guides the storm,
Transport him to fome dreary isle
Where Favour never deign'd to smile.
Where waking, helpless, all alone,
Midft craggy steeps and rocks unknown;
Sad scenes of woe his pride confound,
And Defolation ftalks around.
Where the dull months no pleasures
bring,

And years roll round without a fpring;
Where he all hopeless, loft, undone,
Sees chearless days that know no fun;
Where jibing Scorn her throne inaintains
Midft mildews, blights, and blafts, and
rains.

Let others, with fubmiffive knee, Capricious goddess! bow to three ; Let them with fixt inceffant aim Court fickle favour, faithlefs fame; Let vanity's fastidious flave

Lote the kind moments nature gave,

In invocations to the fhrine

Of Phoebus, and the fabled Nine,
An author, to his latest days,
From hunger, or from thirst of praise,
Let him thro' every subject roam
To bring the useful morfel home;
Write upon Liberty, oppreft,
On happiness, when most distrest,
Turn bookfeller's obfequious tool,
A monkey's cat, a mere fool's fool;
Let him, unhollow'd wretch! profane
The mufe's dignity for gain,

1

Yield to the dunce his fenfe contemns,
Cringe to the knave his heart condemns,
And, at a blockhead's bidding, force
Reluctant genius from his courfe;
Write øde, epiftle, effay, libel,
Make notes, or steal them, for the bible;
Or let him, more judicial, fit
The dull Lord Chief, on culprit wit,
With rancor read, with paffion blame,
Talk high, yet fear to put his name,
And from the dark, but useful shade,
(Fit place for murd'rous ambuscade)
Weak monthly fhafts at merit hurl,
The Gildon of some modern Curl,

For me, by adverse fortune plac'd
Far from the colleges of taste,
I jostle no poetic name ;
I envy none their proper fame;
And if fometimes an eafy vein,
With no defign, and little pain,
Form'd into verfe, hath pleas'd a while,
And caught the reader's tranfient fmile,
My muse hath answer'd all her ends,
Pleafing herself, while pleas'd her
friends;

But, fond of liberty, difdains

To bear restraint, or clink her chains; Nor would, to gain a Monarch's favour, Let dulnefs, or her fons, enflave her.

"Perife my ftrains when e'er one venalline
Bedaubs a duke or makes a king divine."
All this is vastly pretty mighty fine!
A thousand more fuch patriotic whims
Have fprung from fancy's flights and

poet's dreams,

And yet fome bards who thus have fung or faid

Wou'd fell their king and country too for bread,

M-l-t or H-me to this make no objection,

Nor take it as a national reflection, I mean nor this, nor that, or t'other nation,

But bards of every kingdom, state or sta

For who is great but also wou'd be thought To be the wife, the honest man he ought? Put to the blush if then the Great to own Themselves inferior to their state or throne,

They buy t'avoid the taunts of public fhame,

of mercenary bards.immortal fame : While little wits like fnarling puppies bark

And fnap at reputations in the dark; Play e'en with merit the most wicked sport, Revile good kings and rail at every court, Sans reafon brand their governor's alike, And strike at all-not knowing were to ftrike.

The pointed arrow lights upon his

grace,

His lordship, or some wight of pow'r and place;

Where'er it falls the fting is felt severe And fcandal foon attracts the public ear, Report it's emiffaries fpreads around; "Who is the author?-Where's he to be found?".

Hope of reward unfolds the secret soon, And gladly Codrus owns the sharp lam

more;

Codrus accepts the cash, but gives his word,

Nay, pawns his honour, he ne'er meant my lord;

Wonders his lordship hou'dbe so mista'en, But never fends the money back again; Taught in the moral school of old plump Jack*

He likes not that fame trick" of paying back."

But to convince the noble peer the better, Sends him a cringing panegyric letter, Orelfe in pompousftrains of verfe andode, Makes the vile mortal, an immortal God; With ev'ry virtue bids his vices thine, And lo! the devil himself is all divine. Greatnels! I prithee tell me, which

is worst,