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tp her friend Wai. Honeycomb. Will has given it to Sir Andrew J-resport, who read it last night to the club.
* F Am not so meer a country-gentleman, but I can
* X guess at the law business you had at the Temp/t.
* If you would go down to the country, and leave off all 'your vanities but your singing, let me know at my
* lodgings in Bow-Slreet, Covert-Garden, and you shail
* be encouraged by
Tour bumble servant,
My good friend could not well stand the rallery which was rising upon him; but to put a stop to it I deliver'd Will Honeycomb the following letter, and desired him to read it to the board.
HAVING seen a translation of one of the chapters in the Canticles into Englijh verse inserted 'among your late papers, I have ventured to fend yo»
* the viith chapter of the Proverbs in a poetical dress.
* If you think it worthy appearing among your fpecu
* lations, it will be a sufficient reward for the trouble
Tour constant reader,
H/f Tfin, itf instruction tbat my words impart,
Grave on the living tablet of thy heart i
Let all thy homage be to Wijdom paid.
Once frcm my window as I cast mine eye
Juji as the fun withdrew his cooler light\
My chamber 1've adorn d, and o'er my bed
Upon her tongue didsuch smooth mischief dwell. AndJ'torn her Tips such welcome fiatt'ry fell,
unguarded youth, in filkenfotters ty'd, Sefign'd his reason, and with ease comply'd.. Tbus dees the ox to his ownstaughter go, And thus isfenfeUfs ofth' impendingblovh
Tbus Jiies the Jims le bird into the snare.
That jkilful fowlers for his life prepare.
But let my sons attend. Attend may they
Whom youthful vigour may to Jin betray;
Let them false charmers fy, and guard their beartl
Agaiujl the wily wanton's pleasng arts;
With care direct their steps, nor turn af.ray
To tread the paths of her deceitful way;
Les t they too late of her foll power complain.
Andfall, where many mightier have been jiain.
Avia Pieridumperagro loca, nullius ante
Trita solo : juvat integros accedere fonteis,
Atque haurire: Lucr. lib. I. v. 925.
■ Inspir'd s trace the muses feats,
Untrodden yet: 'tis sweet to visit sirst
Untouch'd and virgin streams, and quench my thirst.
OU R sight is the most perfect and most delightful of all our fenses. It fills the mind with the largest variety of ideas, converses with its objects at the greatest distance, and continues the longest in action without being tired or satiated with its proper enjoyments. The fense of feeling can indeed give us a notion of extension, shape, and all other ideas that enter at the eye, except colours j but at the fame time it is / very much straitned and consined in its operations, to the number, bulk, and distance of its particular objects. Our sight seems designed to supply all these defects, and may be considered, as a more delicate and diffusive kind of touch, that spreads itself over an insinite multitude of bodies, comprehends the largest sigures, and brings into our reach some of the most remote parts of tne universe.
It is this fense which furnishes the imagination with its ideas; so that by the pleasures of the imagination or fancy (which I shall use promiscuously) 1 here mean such as arise from visible objects, either when we have them actually in our view, or when we call up their ideas into our minds by paintings, statues, descriptions, or any the like occasion. We cannot indeed have a single image in the fancy that did not make its sirst en» trance through the sight; but we have the power of retaining, altering and compounding those images, which we have once received, into all the varieties of picture and vision that are most agreeable to the imagination: for by this faculty a mnn in a dungeon is capable of entertaining himself with scenes and landfkips more beautiful than any that can be found in the whole compass of nature.
^There are few words in the Englijh language which, are employed in a more loose and uncircumscribed sense than those of the Fancy and the Imagination.' I therefore thought it necessary to six and determine the notion of these two words, as I intend to make use of them in the thread of my following speculations, thft the reader may conceive rightly what is the subject which I proceed upon. I must therefore desire him to remember that, by the pleasures of the imagination, I mean only such pleasures as arise originally from sight, and that I divide these pleasures into two kinds: My design being sirst of all to discourse of those primary pleasures ot the imagination, which entirely proceed from such objects as are before our eyes; and in the next place to speak of those secondary pleasures of the imagination which flow from the ideas of visible objects, when the objects are not actually before the eye, but are called up into our memories, or formed into agreeable visions of things that are either absent or sictitious:
The pleasures of the imagination, taken in the full extent, are not so gross as those of fense, nor so resined as those of the understanding. The last are, indeed, more preferable, because they are founded on some new knowledge or improvement in the mind of man; ys;t it must be consest that those of the imagination are as great and as transporting as the other. A beautiful prospect delights the foul, as much as a demonstration; and a description in Homer has charmed more readers than a chapter in Aristotle. Besides, the pleasures of the imagination have this advantage, above those of the understanding, that they are more obvious, and more easy to be acquired. It is but opening the leye and the scene enters. The colours paint themselves on the fancy, with very little attention of thought or application of mind in the beholder. We are struck, we know not how, with the symmetry of any thing we see, and immediately assent to the beauty of an object, without inquiring into the particular causes and occasions of it.
A man of a polite imagination is let into a great many pleasures, that rhe vulgar are not capable of receiving. He can converse with a picture, and sind an agreeame companion in a statue* He meets with a secret reireshment in a description, and often seels a greater satisfaction in the prospect of sields and meadows, than another does in the possession. It gives him, indeed, a kind of property in every thing he fees, and. makes the most rude uncultivated parts of nature administer to his pleasures: So that he looks upon the world, as it were in another light, and discovers in it a multitude of charms, that conceal themselves from the generality of mankind.
There are, indeed, but very few who know how to be idle and innocent, or have a relish of any pleasures . that are not criminal; every diversion they take is at the expence of some one virtue or another, and their very sirst step out of business is into- vice or folly. A:, man should endeavour, therefore, to make the sphere of his innocent pleasures as wide as possible, that he may retire into them with safety, .and sind in them such a . satisfaction as a wise man would not blush to take. Of 1 this nature are those of the imagination, which do not require such a bent of thought as is necessary to ourmore serious employments, nor, at the fame time, suffer the mind to sink into that negligence and remissness, 'which are apt to accompany our more sensual delights, but, like a gentle exercise to thefaculties, awaken them