Where are the frowns and terrors of thy brow?
Thou hast an angel's heav'nly form and air,
Pleasures and Graces in thy train appear:
Ten thousand kind transporting scenes arise;
Oh, come, my Fair! they call us to the skies.
Beauties, like thee, in Nature's early pride,
Undaunted, for their sacred faith have died;
With their, with all th' illustrious names of old,
The British glory, thine shall be inroll'd.

To Mrs

Madam,

LETTER XVIII.

I CANNOT say you have turned me into an angel; I have too much modesty to compliment you or myself with such miracles; but you have certainly given an elevation to my mind which I never before experienced, and, without any design but doing you justice, I may own that, from a savage I am become human, and from a libertine regular and consistent; from a lover you have metamorphosed me into a reasonable creature. However odd this confession appears, this is making you a greater compliment than swearing you have made me a lunatic and a madman. It is more glorious for you to be valued by a man in his right senses, than to be stared at by one quite out of his wits: my being more reasonable does not argue that you are less amiable.

For inward greatness, unaffected wisdom,

And sanctity of manners, improve your charms.

Addison.

You have convinced me that Virtue is more than an empty name, that it is the most sacred reality. I see, I acknowledge, the bright Divinity: she insults my infidelity by a thousand modern instances of her power; among the youthful and mature, the gentle and severe, she boasts her votaries: Virtue retires no more to cottages and cells, but, secure of public triumph and applause, she makes the British court her imperial residence.

The Goddess all her glorious self appears,
When Carolina's royal form she wears,

With ev'ry conqu'ring charm she stands reveal'd,
While subject hearts their glad allegiance yield.

Long may this propitious Queen be the joy and boast of a great and happy nation! You find I am grown public spirited: it is you have given this generous ardour to my soul, and kindled the sincerest zeal for the honour of my king and country. I grow impatient to draw my sword in their defence, and would commence the hero : nor will I dissemble the truth, but freely own to you that, in my state of infidelity, my bravery was all affected, and often disguised the most slavish terrors.

I perceive, Madam, it is my own panegyric I am writing rather than your's. Indeed my character cannot be in better hands; I have certainly done

my good qualities, and, with great modesty, have thought fit to propose myself as an example of the reformation of manners.

You will conclude I am in a disposition to write a moral essay rather than a love-letter, which was really my prime intention; but you have ridiculed all my figures of rhetoric on that subject, so that I am forced to change my style in my own defence: but I hope I am intelligible in assuring you I am, without reserve, Madam,

Your most devoted,

and most humble servant, ALBANUS.

LETTERS TO CLEORA.

Madam,

LETTER I.

IT is certainly better for yourself, and more for the security of mankind, that you should live in some rural abode than appear in the world; such persons as you are fatal to the public tranquility, and do mischief without ever designing it. But I must own, when Belles and Beaus retire to country shades for the sake of heavenly contemplation, the world will be well reformed. A hermit's life might be tolerable while the serious hours are divided be

tween Hyde Park and the Opera; but a more distant retreat, in the full pride of your charms and youth, will be very extraordinary. To be convinced, by so carly experience, that mankind are amused only with dreams and fantastic appearances, must proceed from a superior degree of virtue and good sense. After a thousand convictions of the vanity of their pursuits, how few know the empha sis of these few lines!

Sweet Solitude! when Life's gay hours are past;
Howe'er we range, in thee we fix at last :
Toss'd through tempestuous seas, (the voyage o'er)
Pale, we look back, and bless the friendly shore.
Our own strict judge our past life we scan,
And ask if Virtue has enlarg'd the span :
If bright the prospect, we the grave defy,
Trust future ages, and contented die.

Tickell.

Nothing is, perhaps, more terrible to the imagination than an absolute solitude; yet, I must own, such a retreat as disengages the mind from those interests and passions which mankind generally pursue appears to me the most certain way to happiness: quietly to withdraw from the crowd, and leave the gay and ambitious to divide the honours and pleasures of the world, without being a rival or competitor in any of these advantages, must leave a person in perfect and unenvied repose.

Without any apology, I am going to talk to myself; and what follows may be properly called a

Let me lose the remembrance of this busy world, and hear no more of its distracting tumults! Ye vain Grandeurs of the earth! ye perishing Riches and fantastic Pleasures! What are your proudest boasts? Can you yield undecaying delights, joys becoming the dignity of reason, and the capacities of an immortal mind? Ask the happy spirits above at what price they value their enjoyments; ask them if the whole creation should purchase one moment's interval of their bliss? No :-one beam of celestial light obscures the glory, and casts a reproach on all the beauty this world can boast.

This is talking in buskins, you will think; and, indeed, I may resign crowns and sceptres, and give up the grandeurs of the world, with as much imaginary triumph as a hero might fight battles, and conquer armies in a dream.

In the height of this romantic insult, I am,

Madam,

Your most obliged humble servant.

Madam,

LETTER II.

To the same.

I AM certainly dead and buried, according to your notions of life; interred in the silence and obscurity of a country retreat, far from the dear Town, and all its joys; which, in your gay apprehensions,