See, Winter comes to rule the varied year, Vapors, and clouds, and storms. Be these my theme, Pleased have I wandered through your rough domain, The seasons came the gentle Spring, Fleetly hath passed the year. When the cool wind came freshly from the hills; "T is He whose hand "God hath been very good." When Pope had reached the meridian of his fame, he was beset, as many distinguished literary persons are at the present day, with applications from numerous writers, who had mistaken a desire to write for the ability, to read and revise their compositions, and to use his influence in having them published. In this poetical epistle to his friend and physician, he humorously describes his annoyances; and expresses his fears that Bedlam (the madbouse) or Parnassus has sent forth the troop of poetasters and scribblers who lie in wait for him. 1. "SHUT, shut the door, good John!" fatigued, I said; All Bedlam or Parnassuse is let out: Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand, They rave, recite, and madden round the land. What walls can guard me, or what shades can hide? They stop the chariot, and they board the barge. 2. Is there a parson much be-mused in beer, A clerk, fore-doomed his father's soul to cross, Is there166 who, locked from ink and paper, scrawls 3. Friend to my life, which, did not you prolong, If foes, they write; if friends, they read me dead. With honest anguish and an aching head, * Pope's villa, on the Thames. + . 4 "Nine years!" cries he, who, high in Drury Lane, -- My friendship, and a prologue, and ten pound.' Pitholeon libelled me. -" But here 's a letter 5 Bless me! a packet. -"'T is a stranger sues, If I dislike it, "Furies, death and rage; If I approve, "Commend it to the stage." There (thank my stars!) my whole commission ends; Fired that the house rejects him, “ 'Sdeath, I'll print it 66 Not, Sir, if you revise it and retouch." All my demurs but double his attacks; At last he whispers," Do, and we go snacks." Sir, let me see your works and you no more!" CCVII. THE CHARIOT RACE, WITH THE DEATH OF ORESTES 1. THEY took their stand where the appointed judges Had cast their lots and ranged the rival cars. Rang out the brazen trump! Away they bound! Cheer the hot steeds and shake the slackened reins; As with a body, the large space is filled With the huge clangor of the rattling cars: High whirl aloft the dust-clouds; blent together Each presses each, and the lash rings, and loud Snort the wild steeds, and from their fiery breath, Along their manes, and down the circling wheels, Scatter the flaking foam. 2. Ores'tes still, Aye, as he swept around the perilous pillar, * A publisher in Pope's day. † Pronounced à; meaning, aiways, ever. The left rein curbed that on the dexter hanc Dashed their wild fronts: then order changed to ruin: Was, sea-like, strewn with wrecks; the Athenian saw, 3. Behind, Orestes, hitherto the last, - he reaches Had yet kept back his coursers for the close; He nears Slackened the left rein: - On the column's edge 4. Loud from that mighty multitude arose A shriek --- those a shout! But yesterday such deeds SOPHOCLES, TRANSLATED BY SIR E. B. LYTTON CCVIII. - ADVICE TO AN AFFECTED SPEAKER. 66 1. WHAT do you say? What? I really do not understand you. Be so good as to explain yourself again. Upon my word, I do not!-O! now I know you mean to tell me it is a cold day. Why did you not say at once, "It is cold to-day"? If you wish to inform me it rains or snows, pray say, It rains," "It snows;" or, if you think I look well, and you choose to compliment me, say, "I think you look well.". answer "that is so common and so plain, and what But," you everybody can say."--"Well, and what if everybody can? Is it so great a misfortune to be understood when one speaks, and to speak like the rest of the world? 2. I will tell you what, my friend, — you do not suspect it, and I shall astonish you, but you, and those like you, want common sense! Nay, this is not all; it is not only in the direction of your wants that you are in fault, but of your superfluities; you have too much conceit; you possess an opinion that you have more sense than others. That is the source of all your pompous nothings, your cloudy sentences, and your big words without a meaning. Before you accost a person, or enter a room, let me pull you by the sleeve and whisper in your ear, "Do not try to show off your sense: have none at all; that is your cue. Use plain language, if you can; just such as you find others use, who, in your idea, have no understanding: and then, perhaps, you will get credit for having some." LA BRUYERE. CCIX. LAMENT OVER LOST OPPORTUNITIES. 1. O, FOR the days and years that are gone by and perished from me, as water spilt on the sea-sand, uselessly and irretrievably! "Where is the fable of my former life?" Alas! the brilliancy of my day was spent utterly in its dawning. Feeble, and abortive, and fleeting, has been the time that I have passed; but other elements than these were within it, and had I but nurtured them, to me that foolish time had been the parent of a blissful eternity. But occasions are past, the hour of their reckoning is nigh at hand, even now my twilight is coming on, and my hopes are darkening into regrets. 2. Could I once again but so much as touch the hem of “the mantling train of far departed years," surely it should be my salvation. But time, as it speeds on, gives us the pass but glancingly, like the rush of a carriage on a railway, or a rocket into the air; we take no note of it while within our reach, and not till it is far away in the distance can we settle our sight steadily upon it, and estimate it duly. Days of my youth, it is even so, ye were sent to me on an angelic mission, your bosoms overflowing with flowers, and fruit, and all things, whatever there be, of use and loveliness; these would ye have emptied into my hands, but I would not, and so it was your law to leave me, taking with ye no token of my thankful acceptance! 3. Even now, methinks, I see ye through the far air" gliding meteorous," sinking into the dimness of distance, yet ever and |