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entire in Longinus, since it is manifest to any one out the nature of his diftemper, by those fymptoms who looks into that author's quotation of it, that of love which he had learnt from Sappho's writhere must at least have been another stanza, which tings. Stratonice was in the room of the love-lick is not transmitted to us.

prince, when these symptoms discovered themselves The second translation of this fragment which to his physician; and it is probable, that they I shall here cite, is that of Monsieur Boileau. were not very different froin those which Sappho

here describes in a lover fitting by his mistress. Heureux ! qui prés de toi, pour toi seule foúpire : · This story of Antiochus is so well known, that « Qui jouït du plaisir de t'entendre parler :

I need not add the sequel of it, which has no re« Qui te voit quelquefois doucement lui foúrire. lation to my present subject. « Les Dieux, dans son bonbeur, peuvent-ils l'égaler ?

N° 230. FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 23. " Je sens de veine en veine une subtile flamme

Homines ad Deos nullâ re propiùs accedunt, quum Courir par tout mon corps, fi-tót que te vois :

falutem bominibus dando.

TULL. « Et dans les doux transports, s'egare mon ame, Men resemble the gods in nothing so much, as in “ Je ne scaurois trouver de langue, ni de voix.

doing good to their fellow creatures. “ Un nuage confus se répand sur ma vui,

UMAN nature appears a very deformed, or, 16 Je n'entens plus, je tombe en de douces langueurs : It påle, sans baleine, interdite éperduë, fererit lights in which it is viewed. When we see, Un frijon me faifit, je tremble, je me meurs." men of inflamed passions, or of wicked designs,

tearing one another to pieces by open violence, or The reader will see that this is rather an imitation undermining each other by secret treachery ; when than a translation. The circumitances do not lie

we observe base and narrow ends pursued by ig20so thick together, and follow one another with that minious and dishonest means; when we behold: vehemence and emotion as in the original. In

men mixed in society as if it were for the deftrucshort, Monsieur Boileau has given us all the poe- tion of it; we are even ashamed of our species, try, but not all the passion of this famous fragments and out of humour with our own being; but in I shali, in the lait place, present my reader with another light, when we behold them mild, good, the English translation.

and benevolent, full of a generous regard for the

public prosperity, compassionating each other's dife. I.

tresses, and relieving each other's wants, we can Blest as th’immortal gods is he,

hardly believe they are creatures of the same kind. « The youth who fondly tits by thee,

In this view they appear gods to each other, in the " And hears and sees thee all the while

exercise of the noblest power, that of doing good; 66 Softly speak and sweetly smile.

and the greatest compliment we have ever been II.

able to inake to our own being, has been by calling “ 'Twas this depriv'd my soul of rest,

this disposition of mind humanity. We cannot " And rais'd such tumults in my brealt;

but observe a pleasure arising in our own breast For while I gaz’d, in transport tost,

upon the feeing or hearing of a generous action, " My breath was gone, my voice was lost;

even when we are wholly disinterested in it. I III.

cannot give a more proper instance of this, than, My bosom glow'd; the subtle siame

by a letter from Pliny, in which he recommends Ran quick thro' all my vital frame;

a friend in the most handsome manner; and, me! O'er my dim eyes a darkness lung;

thinks, it would be a great pleasure to know the My ears with hollow murmurs rung.

success of this epiftle, though each party conIV. cerned in it has been so many

hundred years

in his 5. In dewy damps my limbs were chill'd;

grave. “My blood with gentle horrors thrillid;

" To MAXIMUS. « My feeble pulse forgot to play; “ I fainted, sunk, and dy'd away.”

of your'sI

« confidence request for a friend of mine. ArriaInstead of giving any character of this last tranf nus Maturius is the inolt considerable man of his lation, I thall delire my learned reader to look into

6 country; when I call him so, I do not speak, the criticisms which Longinus has made upon the 6 with relation to his fortune, though that is very original. By that means he will know to which

plentiful, but to his integrity, justice, gravity, of the translations he ought to give the preference. " and prudence; his advice is ufeful to me in buI shall only add, that this tranilation is written in

« finess, and his judgment in matters of learning : the very spirit of Sappho, and as near the Greek

« his fidelity, truth, and good understanding, are as the genius of our language will possibly suffer.

very great ; besides this, he loves me as you do, Longinus has observed, that this description of than which I cannot say any thing that fignifies love in Sappho is an exact copy of nature, and that a warmer affection. He has nothing that is all the circumstances which follow one another in afpiring; and though he might rise to the highsuch an hurry of sentiments, not withstanding they • eft order of nobility, he keeps himself in an in. appear repugnant to each other, are really such as

• ferior rank; yet I think myself bound to use happen in the phrenzies of love.

my endeavours to serve and promote him; and I wonder that nọt one of the critics or editors, I would therefore find the means of adding somethrough whose hands this ode has passed, has taken thing to his honours while he neither expects occalion from it to mention a circumstance related

nor knows it, nay, though he should refuse it. by Plutarch. That author in the famous story of

Something, in thort, I would have for him that Antiochus, who fell in love with Stratenice, his

may be honourable, but not troublesome; and I mother-in-law, and, not daring to discover his paf- o intreat that you will procure him the first thing fion, pretended to be confined to his bed by lick I of this kind that offers, by which you will net nels, tells us, that Erasıftratus, the physician, found only oblige me, but him also; for though he

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does not covet it, I know he will be as grateful : favourite plays, to contend which of them should ' in acknowledging your favour as if he asked it.' • recite a beautiful part of a poem or oration moit

• gracefully, or sometimes to join in acting a scene « Mr. Spectator,

r of Terence, Sophocles, or our own Shakespeare. HÉ reflexions in some of your papers on • The cause of Milo might again be pleaded before

the servile manner of education now in (more favourable judges, Cæsar a second time be o use, have given birth to an ambition; which, • taught to tremble, another race of Athenians be o unless you discountenance it, will, I doubt, • afreth enraged at the ambition of another Philip.

engage me in a very difficult, though not un • Amidst these noble amusements, we could hope • grateful adventure. I am about to undertake, " to see the early dawnings of their imagination for the sake of the British youth, to instruct daily brighten into sense, their innocence im6 them in such a manner, that the most dangerous prove into virtue, and their unexperienced good

page in Virgil or Homer may be read by them nature directed to a generous love of their coun(with much pleasure, and with perfect safety to try. 6 their persons.


"I am, &c. • Could I prevail so far as to be honoured with • the protection of some few of them, for I am not • hero enough to rescue many, my design is to N° 231. SATURDAY, Nov. 24. “retire with them to an agreeable folitude; tho' (within the neighbourhood of a city for the con

0 Pudor! O Pietas !

MART, « venience of their being instructed in mufic, danc- O Modesty! O Picty!

ing, drawing, designing, or any other such ac. OOKING over the letters which I have o complishments, which it is conceived may make “as proper diversions for them, and almost as plea- met with the following one, which is written with «fant, as the little fordid games which dirty school- such a spirit of politeness, that I could not but be

boys are so much delighted with. It may easily very much pleased with it myself, and question « be imagined, how such a pretty society, converi not but it will be acceptable to the reader. . ing with none beneath themselves, and sometimes 6 admitted as perhaps not unentertaining parties

• Mr. Spectator, « amongst better company, commended and ca

OU, who are no ftranger to public affem• ressed for their little performances, and turned « by such conversations to a certain gallantry of they often itrike on such as are obliged to exert • soul, might be brought early acquainted with any talent before them. This is a sort of ele« some of the most polite English writers. This gant distress, to which ingenuous minds are the

having given them fome tolerable taste of books, ! most liable, and may therefore deserve some re"they would make themselves masters of the La • snarks in your paper. Many a brave fellow, who

tin tongue by methods far easier than those in • has put his enemy to flight in the field, has been « Lilly, with as little difficulty or reluctance as in the utmost disorder upon making a speech be

young ladies learn to speak French, or to fing • fore a body of his friends at home : one would • Italian Operas. When they had advanced thus I think there was some kind of fascination in the « far, it would be time to form their taste fome eyes of a large circle of people, when darting all " thing more exactly: one that had any true relish together upon one person. I have seen a new

of fine writing, might, with great pleasure both actor in a tragedy so bound up by it as to be

to himself and them, run over together with scarce able to speak or move, and have expected « them the best Roman historians, poets, and ora he would have died above three acts before the

and point out their more remarkable beau • dagger or cup of poison were brought in. It • ties; give them a thort scheme of chronology, a I would not be amiss, if such an one were at first « little view of geography, medals, astronomy, or ( introduced as a ghost, or a Itatue, until he rea ( what else might best feed the busy inquisitive covered his fpirits, and grew fit for some living « humour fo natural to that age. Such of them. part.

as had the least spark of genius, when it was • As this sudden defertion of one's self thews a I once awakened by the thining thoughts and (diffidence, which is not displeasing, it implies at

great sentiments of those admired writers, could the same time the greatest respect to an audience

not, I believe, be easily with held from attempt " that can be. It is a sort of mute eloquence, § ing that more difficult lifter language, whose ex which pleads for their favour much better than 6 alted beauties they would have heard so often words could do ; and we find their generofity 6 celebrated as the pride and wonder of the whole • naturally moved to support those who are in to « learned world. In the mean while, it would be ! much perplexity to entertain them. I was ex• requisite to exercise their stile in writing any • tremely pleased with a late instance of this kind § \ight pieces that ask more of fancy than of judg at the Opera of Almahide, in the encouragement ! meat: and that frequently in their native lan given to a young finger, whose more than ordi-e. guage, which every one methinks thould be

nary concern on her first appearance, recomç molt concerned to cultivate, especially letters, ' mended hor no less than her agreeable voice, and ( in which a gentleman must have so frequent just performance. Meer bashfulness without merice ! cccafions to distinguish himself. A set of gen, is aukward ; and merit without modcfty, infar ( teel good-natured youths fallen inta such a man lent: but modest merit has a double claim to • ner of life, would form almost a little academy, • acceptance, and generally meets with as many • and doubtless prove no such contemptible com

patrons as beholders, • panions, as might not often tempt a wiser man

"I am, &c. o to mingle himtelf in their divertions, and draw • them into such ferious sports as might prove no It is impossible that a person should exert him.

thing, leis instructing than the gravelt lessons. self to advantage in an affembly, whether it be his " I doubt not but it inight be made some of their part either to fing or speak, who lies under too

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great oppressions of modesty. I remember, upon If modefty has so great an influence over out, talking with a friend of mine concerning the force actions, and is in many cases fo impregnable a of pronunciation, our discourse led us into the enu- fence to virtue; what can more undermine momeration of the several organs of speech which an rality than that politeness which reigns among orator ought to have in perfection, as the tongue, the unthinking part of mankind, and creats as the teeth, the lips, the nofe, the palate, and the unfashionable the moft ingenuous part of our bewind-pipe. Upon which, says my friend, you have haviour; which recommends impudence as good omitted the most material organ of them all, and breeding, and keeps a man always in countenance, that is the forehead.

not because he is innocent, but because he is ihamcBut notwithstanding an excess of modesty ob- less ? Atructs the tongue, and renders it unfit for its offi Seneca thought modesty so great a check to vice, ces, a due proportion of it is thought so requisite that he prescribes to us the practice of it in secret, to an orator, chat rhetoriciáns have recommended and advises us to raise it in ourselves upon imait to their disciples as a particular in their art. ginary occasions, when such as are real do not Cicero tells us that he never liked an orator, who offer themselves; for this is the meaning of his did not appear in some little confusion at the be- precept, that when we are by ourselves, and in our ginning of his speech, and confesses that he himself greatest solitudes, we should fancy that Cato ítands never entered upon an oration without trembling before us and sees every thing we do. In ibort, and concern. It is indeed a kind of deference if you banish modesty out of the world, the carries which is due to a great assembly, and seldom fails away half the virtue that is in it. to raise a benevolence in the audience towards the After these reflexions on modesty, as it is a virperfon who speaks. My correspondent has taken tue; I must observe, that there is a vicious modesty, notice that the bravest men often appear timorous which juftly deserves to be ridiculed, and which on these occasions, as indeed we may observe, that those persons very often discover, who value theinthere is generally no creature more impudent than selves most upon a well-bred confidence. This a coward.

happens when a man is alhamed to act up to his Linguâ melior, sed frigida bello

reaion, and would not upon any contideration be Dextera

surprised in the practice of thote duties, for the Virg. Æn. II. ver. 338. performance of which he was lent into the world. Bold at the council-board ;

Many an impudent libertine would blush to be But cautious in the field, he thunn’d the sword.

caught in a serious discourse, and would scarce be

DRYDEN. able to thew his head, after having disclosed a A bold tongue and a feeble arm are the qualifi- relig ous thought. Decency of behaviour, all outcation of Drances in Virgil; as Homer, to express ward thew of virtue, and abhorrence of vice, are a man both timorous and faucy, makes use of a carefully avoided by this set of thame-faced peokind of point, which is very rarely to be met with ple, as what would disparage their gaiety of temin his writings ; namely, that he had the eyes of per, and infallibly bring them to dithonour. a dog, but the heart of a deer.

is such a poorness of spirit, such a despicable coin A juft and reasonable modesty does not only ardice, such a degencrate abject ftate of mind, as recommend eloquence, but fets off every great ta one would think human nature incapable of, did lent which a man can be poffeffed of. It heightens we not meet with frequent instances of it in ordiall the virtues which it accompanies ; like the nary conversation. thades in paintings, it raises and rounds every There is another kind of vicious modesty which figure, and makes the colours more beautiful, makes a man alhamed of his perfon, his birth, his though not so glaring as they would be without profetfion, his poverty, or the like misfortunes, it.

which it was not in his choice to prevent, and is Modesty is not only an ornament, but also a not in his power to rectify. If a man appears riguard to virtue. It is a kind of quick and deli- dieulous by any of the aforementioned circum, care feeling in the soul, which makes her shrink stances, he becomes much more fo by being out of and withdraw herself from every thing that has countenance for them. They should rather give danger in it. It is such an exquisite sensibility him occafion to exert a noble spirit, and to palliate as warns her to thun the first appearance of every those imperfections wnich are not in his power, by thing which is hurtful.

those perfections which are; or, to use a very witty I cannot at present recollect either the place or allusion of an eminent author, he thould imitate can time of what I am going to mention ; but I have far, who, because his head was bald, covered that read somewhere in the history of ancient Greece, defect with laurels.

c that the women of the country were seized with an accountable melancholy, which disposed several of them to make away with themselves. The N° 232, MONDAY, NOVEMBER 26. senate, after having tried many expedients to prevent this self-murder, which was so frequent Nibil larg undo gloriam adeptus eft. Sallufi. among them, published an edi&t, that if any woman

By bestowing nothing he acquired glory. whatever should lay violent hands upon herself, her corps should be exposed naked in the Itreet, Y wise and good friend, Sir Andrew Free

This ediêt immediately put a ftop to the the town and the country: his time in town is practice which was before fo coinman. We may given up to the public, and the management of his see in this instance the strength of female modeity, private fortune; and after every three or four days which was able to overcome the violence even of ipent in this manner, he retires for as many to his madness and despair. The fear of shame in the seat within a few miles of the town, to the enroyfair sex, was in those days more prevalent than ment of himself, his family, and his friend. Thus that of deather

business and pleasure, or rarber, in Sir Andrew, la

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bour and rest, recommend each other. They " and the gentleman; our liberality to common take their turns with so quick a vicissitude, that “ beggars, and every other obstruction to the inneither becomes a habit, or takes poffefsion of crease of labourers, must be equally pernicious the whole man; nor is it posible he Mould be “ to both.” furfeited with either. I often see him at our club Sir Andrew then went on to affirm, that the rein good humour, and yet sometimes too with an duction of the prices of our manufactures by the air of care in his looks : but in his country retreat addition of so many new hands, would be no inhe is always unbent, and such a companion as I convenience to any man: but observing I was could defire; and therefore I seldom fail to make something startled at the affertion, he made a one with him when he is pleased to invite me. short pause, and then resumed the discourse. « It

The other day, as foon as we were got into his may seem,” says he, “ a paradox, that the price chariot, two or three beggars on cach side hung “ of labour should be reduced without an abateupon the doors, and solicited our charity with the ment of wages, or that wages can be abated ufual rhetoric of a fick wife or husband at home, “ without any inconvenience to the labourer, and three or four helpless little children, all starving yet nothing is more certain than that both these with co d and hunger. We were forced to part " things may happen. The wages of the labourers with some money to get rid of their importunity; “ make the greatest part of the price of every thing and then we proceeded on our journey with the “ that is useful; and if in proportion with the wablessings and acclamations of these people.


the prices of all other things mould be aba, “ Well then,” says Sir Andrew, “ we go off with “ ted, every labourer with less wages would still be “ the prayers and good wishes of the beggars and " able to purchase as many necessaries of life; sc perhaps too our healths will be drunk at the next “ where then would be the inconvenience? But “ alehouse: so all we shall be able to value our “ the price of labour may be reduced by the ad“ selves upon, is, that we have promoted the " dition of more hands to a manufacture, and yet «« trade of the vi&ualler and the excises of the go " the wages of persons remain as high as ever.

vernment. But how few ounces of wool do The admirable Sir William Petty has given ex,

we sce upon the backs of these poor creatures? amples of this in some of his writings: one of re And when they shall next fall in our way, they “ them, as I remember, is that of a watch, which “ will hardly be better dreffed; they must always “ I Mall endeavour to explain fo as shall suit my “ live in rags to look like objects of compassion. “ prefent purpose. It is certain that a single " If their families too are such as they are repre " watch could not be made so cheap in"propor« sented, it is certain they cannot be better cloth « tion by one only man, as a hundred watches by “ ed, and muit be a great deal worse fed: one a hundred; for as there is a vast variety in the « would think potatoes should be all their bread, “ work, no one person could equally suit himself « and their drink the pure element; and then to all the parts of it; the manufacture would « what goodly customers are the farmers like to “ be tedious, and at latt but cluinfily performed :

have for their wool, corn, and cattle? such " but if an hundred watches were to be made to có customers, and such a consumption, cannot an hundred men, the cases may be asiigned by “ choose but advance the landed interest, and one, the dials to another, the wheels to anos “ hold up the rents of the gentlemen.

« ther, the springs to another, and every other ( But of all men living, we merchants, who part to a proper artist; as there would be no © live by buying and selling, ought never to en “ need of perplexing any one person with too (courage beggars. The goods which we export “ much variety, every one would be able to per« are indeed the product of the lands, but much form his fingle part with greater skill and ex“ the greatest part of their value is the labour of " pedition ; and the hundred watches would be “ the people; but how much of these people's “ finished in one fourth part of the time of the “ labour shall we export whilst we hire them to “ first one, and every one of them at one fourth « fit ftill? The very alms they receive from us, “ part of the cost, though the wages of eve: 7 os are the wages of idleness. I have often thought man were equal. The reduction of the price " that no man should be permitted to take relief 6. of the manufacture would increase the demand < from the parish, or to ask it in the street, until « of it, all the same hands would be fill employed “ he has first purchased as much as possible of his " and as well paid. The same rule will hold in “ own livelihood by the labour of his own hands; “ the cloathing, the shipping, and all other trades « and then the public ought only to be taxed to “ whatsoever. . And thus an addition of hands « make good the deficiency. If this rule was “ to our manufactures will only reduce the price « ftri&tly observed, we should see every where “ of them; the labourer will still have as much « such a multitude of new labourers, as would wages, and will confequently be enabled to « in all probability reduce the prices of all our “ purchase more conveniencies of life; fo that « manufactures. It is the very life of merchan “ every interest in the nation would receive a be“ dize to buy cheap and sell dear. The mer “ nefit from the increase of our working people. “ chant ought to make his out-set as cheap as “ Bcfides, I see no occasion for this charity to “ poflible, that he may find the greater profit up common beggars, fince every beggar is an inon his returns; and nothing will enable him “ habitant of a parish, and every parish is taxed

do this like the reduction of the price of la “ to the maintenance of their own foor. For my « bour upon all our manufactures. This too own part, I cannot be mightily pleased with the “ would be the ready way to increase the number “ laws which have done this, which have pro“ of our foreign markets; the abatement of the 66 vided better to feed than employ the poor. We

price of the manufacture would pay for the car « have a tradition from our forefathers, that af“ riage of it to more diftant couniries; and this « ter the first of those laws was made, they wçre consequence would be equaily beneficial both "insulted with that famous fong;

to the landed and trading interests. As so great “ an addition of labouring hands would produce

• Hang forrow, and caft away care, this happy consequence both to the merchant

• The parish is bound to find us, &c.

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56 And if we will be so good-natured as to main-' bill of mortality, had I translated it at full length; “ tain them without work, they can do no less I have therefore made an abridgement of it, and “ in return than fing us The Merry Beggars, only extracted such particular passages as have

“ What then! am I against all acts of charity? something extraordinary, either in the case, or in “ God forbid ! I know of no virtue in the gospel the cure, or in the fate of the person who is men« that is in more pathetic expressions recom tioned in it. After this short preface take the ac“ mended to our practice. I was hungry and count as follows. ' ye gave me no meat, thirsty and ye gave me no Battas, the son of Menalcas the Sicilian, leap• drink, naked and ye clothed me not, a strangered for Bombyca the musician: got rid of his pal' and ye took me not in, fick and in prison and ye fion with the loss of his right leg and arm, which

vifited me not.' Our blessed Saviour treats the were broken in the fall. “ exercise or neglect of charity towards a poor Melissa, in love with Daphnis, very much

man, as the performance or breach of this duty bruised, but escaped with life. “ towards himself. I shall endeavour to obey Cynisca, the wife of Æschines, being in love “ the will of my Lord and Master : and there- with Lycus; and Æfchines her husband being in “ fore if an industrious man shall fubmit to the love with Eurilla; (which had made this mar. « hardest labour and coarseft fare, rather than ried couple very uneasy to one another for le“ endure the shame of taking relief from the pa- veral years) both the husband and the wife 6 rith, or asking it in the street, this is the hun- took the leap by consent; they both of them

gry, the thirsty, the naked; and I ought to be- escaped, and have lived very happily together lieve, if any man is come hither for shelter ever since. « against persecution or oppression, this is the Larissa, a virgin of Theffaly, deserted by Plex« stranger, and I ought to take him in. If any ippus, after a courtship of three years ; The stood « countryman of our own is fallen into the hands upon the brow of the promontory for some time, “ of infidels, and lives in a state of miserable cap- and after having thrown down a ring, a bracelet, « tivity, this is the man in prison, and I mould and a little picture, with other presents which ihe «6 contribute to his ransom. I ought to give to had received from Plexippus, the threw herself

an hospital of invalids, to recover as many use- into the sea, and was taken up alive. « ful subjects as I can; but I Mall bestow none N. B. Larissa, before the leaped, made an offer* of my bounties upon an alms-house of idleing of a filver Cupid in the temple of Apollo. 5 people, and for the same reason I should not Simætha, in love with Daphnis the Myndian, " think it a reproach to me if I had with-held perished in the fall. “ my charity from those common beggars. But Charixus, the brother of Sappho, in love with « we prescribe better rules than we are able to Rhodope the courtesan, having spent his whole

praétise; we are alhamed not to give into the state upon her, was advised by his sister to leap « mistaken customs of our country; but at the in the beginning of his amour, but would not “ same time, I cannot but think it a reproach hearken to her until he was reduced to his last taworse than that of common swearing, that the lent; being forsaken byRhodope, at length resolved .6 idic and the abandoned are suffered in the name to take the leap. Perished in it. « of Heaven and all that is sacred, to extort from Aridæus, a beautiful youth of Epirus, in love “ christian and tender minds a supply to a pro- with Braxinoe, the wife of Thespis, escaped with.. « figate way of life, that is always to be sup- out damage, saving only that two of his fore « ported, but never relieved.”

Z teeth were ftruck out and his nose a little flat


Cleora, a widow of Ephesus, being inconsolNo 233. TUESDAY, November 27. take this leap in order to get rid of her passion

able for the death of her husband, was refolved to -Tanquam hæc fint noftri medicina furcris,

for his memory; but being arrived at the proAut deus ille malis hominum mitefcere difcat.

montory, the there met with Dimmachus the Virg. Ecl. 10. ver. 60. Miletian, and after a short conversation with him,

laid alide the thoughts of her leap, and married As if by these my sufferings I could ease,

him in the temple of Apollo. Or by my pains the god of love appease.


N. B. Her widow's weeds are still seen hanging up in the western corner of the temple.

Olphis, the fisherman, having received a box promise I have made to the public, by obli

on the ear from Theftylis the day before, and beging them with a translation of the little Greek ing determined to have no inore to-do with her, manuscript, which is said to have been a piece of leaped, and escaped with life. those records that were preserved in the temple Atalanta, an old maid, whose cruelty had seve. of Apollo, upon the promontory of Leucate : it is ral years before driven two or three despairing loa Mört history of the Lover's Leap, and is inscri- . vers to this leap; being now in the fifty-fifth year bed, “ An account of persons, male and female, of her age, and in love with an officer of Sparta,

who offered up their vows in the temple of the broke her neck in the fall. “ Pythian Apollo, in the forty-sixth Olympiad, Hipparchus being passionately fond of his own " and leaped from the promontory of Leucate wife, who was enainoured of Bathyllus, leaped, o into the Ionian fea, in order to cure themselves and died of his fall; upor which his wife married 66 of the passion of love."

her gallant. This account is very dry in many parts, as only Tettyx, the dancing-master, in love with 0. mentioning the name of the lover who leaped, lympia an Athenian matron, threw himself from the person he leaped for, and relating, in short, the rock with great agility, but was crippled in that he was either cured of killed, or mained by the fall. the fall. It indeed gives the names of so many Diagoras, the ufurer, in love with his cookwho died by it, that it would have looked like a maid; he peeped feveral times over the precipice

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