man: other, and equalling Pope himself in the condensation of his language. Nevertheless, the whole spirit of the composition, though professedly an imitation, is highly characteristic of the we see in it the melancholy gloom that darkened all his view of human existence, while at the same time the noble lines of the conclusion recall the language of those touching fragments of prayer which Boswell discovered among his papers and has preserved in his Life. His Prologues are of the highest excellence; indeed it may be confidently affirmed that he is the best writer of prologues in the language. No man was ever so well qualified to strike that just mean between respectfulness and authority which such addresses to the public require. His sound critical power and elevated feeling are well exemplified in the Prologue spoken at the opening of Drury Lane Theatre; and there is true greatness of spirit in his Prologue to Comus, in which he claims the liberality of the audience for Milton's granddaughter as a tardy redress for the injustice shown by the nation to the genius of the poet himself. His admirable independence of character is perhaps even better seen in the Prologue to A Word to the Wise, a play which at its first exhibition was damned in consequence of political prejudices against the author, but was revived after his death. Nothing can be better than the dignity with which Johnson, in this address, while recognising the judicial authority of the audience, indirectly reproves them for their previous disregard of the laws of humanity by which all their verdicts ought to be determined. W. J. COURTHOPE. THALES' REASONS FOR LEAVING LONDON. [From London.] A transient calm the happy scenes bestow Since worth, he cries, in these degenerate days And safe in poverty defied his foes; Ah! what avails it that, from slavery far, * By numbers here from shame or censure free, All crimes are safe but hated poverty. This, only this, the rigid law pursues, This, only this, provokes the snarling Muse. The sober trader at a tatter'd cloak Wakes from his dream and labours for a joke; Of all the griefs that harass the distressed, But here more slow where all are slaves to gold, THE RISE AND FALL OF WOLSEY. [From The Vanity of Human Wishes.] In full-flown dignity see Wolsey stand, Law in his voice, and fortune in his hand: To him the church, the realm, their powers consign, Through him the rays of regal bounty shine, Turned by his nod the stream of honour flows, His smile alone security bestows: Still to new heights his restless wishes tower, At length his sovereign frowns-the train of state Speak thou whose thoughts at humble peace repine, THE TRUE OBJECTS OF DESIRE [From The Vanity of Human Wishes.] Where then shall Hope and Fear their objects find? Must dull suspense corrupt the stagnant mind ? Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate, Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate? Must no dislike, alarm, no wishes rise, No cries invoke the mercies of the skies? Inquirer, cease; petitions yet remain Which Heaven may hear, nor deem religion vain. But leave to Heaven the measure and the choice. Safe in his power whose eyes discern afar The secret ambush of a specious prayer: Implore his aid, in his decisions rest, Secure whate'er he gives, he gives the best. Yet, when the sense of sacred presence fires, And strong devotion to the skies aspires, Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind, Obedient passions, and a will resigned; For love, which scarce collective man can fill; For patience, sovereign o'er transmuted ill; For faith, that, panting for a happier seat, Counts death kind nature's signal of retreat: These goods for man the laws of Heaven ordain, These goods He grants who grants the power to gain; With these celestial Wisdom calms the mind, And makes the happiness she does not find. PROLOGUE SPOKEN AT THE OPENING OF THE When Learning's triumph o'er her barbarous foes Then Jonson came, instructed from the school, Cold approbation gave the lingering bays, For those who durst not censure scarce could praise. But left, like Egypt's kings, a lasting tomb. The wits of Charles found easier ways to fame, Nor wished for Jonson's art or Shakespeare's flame; |