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of writing) as have escaped public notice, or have been misrepresented to the world; provided that I am ftill within rules, and trespass not as a Tatler any farther than in an incorrectness of file, and writing in an air of common speech. Thus, if any thing that is said, even of old Anchises or Æneas, be set by me in a different light than bas hitherto been hit upon, in order to inspire the love and admiration of worthy actions, you will, gentle reader, I hope, accept of it for intelligence you had not before. But I am going upon a narrative, the matter of which I know to be true : It is not only doing justice to the deceased merit of such persons, as, had ihey lived, would not have had it in their power to thank me, but also an instance of the greatnefsof spirit in the lowest of her Majesty's subjects. Take it as follows:
At the siege of Namur by the Allies, there were in the ranks of the company commanded by Captain Pincent, in Colonel Frederick Hamilton's regiment, one Unnion a corporal, and one Valentine a private centinel: There happened between those two mea a dispute about a mat. ter of Love, which, upon fome aggravations, grew to an irreconcileable hatred. Unnion being the officer of Valentine, took all opportunities even to strike his rival, and profess the spite and revenge which moved him to it. The centinel bore it without resistance ; but frequently said, he would die to be revenged of that tyrant. They had spent whole months thus, one injuring, the other complaining ; when in the midst of this rage towards each other, they were commanded upon the attack of the castle, where the corporal received a shot in the thigh, and fell; the French preffing on, and he expect ing to be trampled to death, called out to his enemy, Ah, Valentine! can you leave me here? Valentine im mediately ran back, and in the midst of a thick fire of the French took the corporal upon his back, and brought him through all that danger as far as the Abbey of Salo line, where a cannon ball took off his head : His body fell under his enemy whom he was carrying off. Unnior immediately forgot his wound, rose up, tearing his hair, and then threw himself upon the bleeding carcass, crying, ah, Valentine ! was it for me who have so barbarously used thee, that thou hast died? I will not live
after thee. He was not by any means to be forced from the body, but was removed with it bleeding in his arms, and attended with tears by all their comrades who knew their enmity. When he was brought to a tent, his wounds were dressed by force ; but the next day ftill calling upon Valentine, and lamenting his cruelties ta him, he died in the pangs of remorse and despair.
It may be a question among men of noble sentiments, wherber of these unfortunate persons had the greater Soul ? he that was so generous as to venture his life for his enemy, or he who could not survive the man that died, in laying upon him such an obligation?
When we see fpirits like these in a people, to what heights may we not suppose their glory may rise ? but (as it is excellently observed in Salluft) it is not only to the general bent of a nation that great revolutions are owing, but to the extraordinary genio's that led them. On which occafion he proceeds to say, that the Roman greatness was neither to be ütiributed to their superior policy ; for in that the Carihaginians excelled ; por to their valcur, for in that the French were preferable; but to particular men, who were l'orn for the good of thor country, and formed for great attempts. This he says to introduce the characters of Cæjar and Colo. in would be entering into too weighty a discourfe for this place, if I attempted to shew, that our nation has pro. duced as great and able men for public affairs as any other. But I believe the reader outruns me, and fixes his imagination upon the Duke of Marlborough. li' is, methinks; a pleasing reflection to consider the dispensa. tions of providence in the fortune of this illustrious man, who, in the space of forty years, has passed through all the gradations of human life, until he has ascended to the character of a Prince, and become the scourge of a tyrant, who fat in one of the greatest thrones in Europe, before the man who was to have the greatest part in bris downfal, had made one step into the world.' But such elevations are the natural consequences of an exact prudence, a calm courage, a well governed temper, a patient ambition, and an affable behaviour. These aris, as they were the steps to his greatness, so they are the pillars of it now it is raised. To this, her glorious fon,
Great Britain is indebted for the happy conduct of her arms, in whom she can boast, that she has produced a man formed by Nature to lead a nation of Heroes. :
Saturday, April 23; 1709.
Will's Coffee-house, April 22.
TAM just come from visiting Sappho, a fine Lady,
I who writes verfes, fings, dances, and can say and do whatever the pleases, without the imputation of any thing that can injure her character; for the is so well known to have no paffion but felf-love ; or folly, but affectation; that now, upon any occasion, they only cry, “ It is her way, and, that is so like her," without farther reflection. As I came into the room, the cries, Oh! Mr. Bickerstatt, I am 'utterly undone ; I have broke that pretty Italian fan I shewed you when ynu nere here last, wherein were so admirably drawn our firit parents in Paradise, asleep in each other's arms. But there is such an affinity between painting and poe. try, that I have been improving the images which were raised by that picture, by reading the same representation in two of our greatest poets. Look you, here are the passages in Milton and in Dryden. AH Milton's thoughts are wonderfully just and natural, in that ini: mitable description which Adam makes of himself in the eighch book of Paradise Loft. But there is none of them finer than that contained in the following lines, where he tells us his thoughts, when he was falling asleep a little after the creation :
While thus I call'd, and Atray'd I knew not whither,
Firft found me, and with soft oppression seiz'd
But now I cannot forgive this odious thing, this Dryden, who, in his State of Innocence, has given my great grandmother Eve the same apprehension of annihilation on a very different occafion; as Adam pronounces it of himself, when he was seized with a pleasing kind of ftupor and deadness, Eve fancies herself falling away, and diffolving in the hurry of a rapture. However, the verses are very good, and I do not know but what the says may be natural ; I will read them :
When your kind eyes look'd languishing on mine,
She went, and said a thousand good things at random, but so strangely mixed, that you would be apt to fay, all her wit is mere good luck, and not the effect of reafon and judgment. When I made my escape hither, I found a Gentleman playing the critic on two other great Poets, even Virgil and Homer. He was obferving, that Virgil is more judicious than the other in the epi.' thets he gives his Hero. Homer's usual epithet, said he, is Ποδας ωκυς, or Ποδαρκης, and his indifcretion has been often rallied by the critics, for mentioning the nimble. Dess of foot in Achilles, though he describes him standing, fitting, lying down, fighting, eating, drinking, or in any other circumstance, however foreign or repugnant to speed and activity. Virgil's common epithet to Æneas is Pius, or Pater. I have therefore considered, said he, what passage there is in any of his Hero's actions, where either of these appellations would have been most improper, to see if I could catch him at the C4
fame fault with Homer : And this, I think, is his meeting with Dido in the cave, where Pius. Æneas would have been absurd, and Pater. Æneas a burlesque : The Poes has therefore wisely dropped them both for Dux Trojarys..
Speluncam Dido dux & Trojanus eandem
Which he has repeated twice, in Juno's speech and his own narration : For he very well knew, a loose ation might be consistent enough with the usual manners of a Soldier, though it became neither the chastity of a pious man, nor the gravity of the father of a people.
Grecian Coffee house, April 22. While other parts of the town are amused with the present actions, we generally spend the evening at this table in enquiries into antiquity, and think any thing News which gives us new knowledge. Thus we are making a very pleasant entertainment to ourselves, ja puwing the actions of Honger's llied into an exact Journal.
This Poem is introduced by Chryses, King of Chryfa and Priest of Apolla, who comes to re-demand his daughter, who had been carried off at the taking of that city, and given to Agamemnon for his part of the booty. The sefusal he received enrages Apollo, who for nine days Ahowered down darts upon them, which occasioned the peftilence.
The tenth day Achilles assembled the Council, and encourages Cbalcas to speak for the surrender of Chiyseis, to appease Apollo. Agamemnon and Achilles ftorm at one another, notwithstanding which, Agamemnon will not release his prisoner, unless he has Briséïs in her stead. After long contestations, wherein Agamemnon gives a glorious character of Achilles's valour, he determines to rettore Chryfiïs to her father, and sends two heralds to fetch away Brisëïs from Achilles, who abandons himself to forrow and despair. His mother Thetis comes to comfort him under his affiliation, and promises to represent Jais forrowful lamention to Jupiter : But he could not