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I was wonderfully affected with a discourse I had lately with a clergyman of my acquaintance upon this head, which was to this effect: The consideration,' said the good man, 'that my being is precarious, moved me many years ago to make a resolution, which I have diligently kept, and to which I owe the greatest satisfaction that a mortal man can enjoy. Every night before I address myself in private to my Creator, I lay my hand upon my heart, and ask myself, whether if God should require my soul of me this night, I could hope for mercy from him? The bitter agonies I underwent in this my first acquaintance with myself were so far from throwing me into despair of that mercy which is over all God's works, that they rather proved motives to greater circumspection in my future conduct. The oftener I exercised myself in meditations of this kind, the less was my anxiety; and by making the thoughts of death familiar, what was at first so terrible and shocking is become the sweetest of my enjoyments. These contemplations have indeed made me serious, but not sullen; nay, they are so far from having soured my temper, that as I have a mind perfectly composed, and a secret spring of joy in my heart, so my conversation is pleasant, and my countenance serene; I have no share in pleasures that leave a sting behind them, nor am I cheated with that kind of mirth," in the midst of which there is heaviness."

Of all the professions of men, a soldier's chiefly should put him upon this religious vigilance. His duty exposes him to such hazards, that the evil which to men in other stations may seem far distant, to him is instant and ever before his eyes. The consideration, that what men in a martial life purchase is gained with danger and labour, and

must perhaps be parted with very speedily, is the cause of much licence and riot. As moreover it is necessary to keep up the spirits of those who are to encounter the most terrible dangers, offences of this nature meet with great indulgence. But there is a courage better founded than this animal fury. The secret assurance, that all is right within, that if he falls in battle, he will the more speedily be crowned with true glory, will add strength to a warrior's arm, and intrepidity to his heart.

One of the most successful stratagems whereby Mahomet became formidable, was the assurance that impostor gave his votaries, that whoever was slain in battle should be immediately conveyed to that luxurious paradise his wanton fancy had invented. The ancient Druids taught a doctrine which had the same effect, though with this difference from Mahomet's, That the souls of the slain should transmigrate into other bodies, and in them be rewarded according to the degrees of their merit. This is told by Lucan with his usual spirit.

• You teach that souls, from fleshy chains unbound,
Seek not pale shades and Erebus profound,
But fleeting hence to other regions stray,
Once more to mix with animated clay;
Hence death's a gap (if men may trust the lore)
'Twixt lives behind and ages yet before.

A blest mistake! which fate's dread power disarms;
And spurs its vot'ries on to war's alarms;
Lavish of life, they rush with fierce delight
Amidst the legions, and provoke the fight;
O'er-matching death, and freely cast away
That loan of life the gods are bound to pay.'

I am

Our gallant countryman, sir Philip Sidney, was a noble example of courage and devotion. particularly pleased to find that he hath translated the whole book of Psalms into English verse.

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friend of mine informs me, that he hath the manuscript by him, which is said in the title to have been done By the most noble and virtuous Gent. Sir Philip Sidney, Knight.' They having been never printed, I shall present the public with one of them, which my correspondent assures me he hath faithfully transcribed, and wherein I have taken the liberty only to alter one word.

PSALM CXXXVII

NIGH seated where the river flows,
That watereth Babel's thankful plain,
Which then our tears, in pearled rows,
Did help to water with the rain:
The thought of Sion bred such woes,
That though our harps we did retain,
Yet useless and untouched there,
On willows only hang'd they were.

II.

Now while our harps were hanged so,
The men whose captives then we lay,
Did on our griefs insulting go,

And more to grieve us thus did. say:
You that of music make such show,
Come sing us now a Sion's lay:

Oh no! we have no voice nor hand
For such a song in such a land.

III.

Though far I be, sweet Sion hill,

In foreign soil exil'd from thee,
Yet let my hand forget his skill
If ever thou forgotten be;
And let my tongue fast glewed still
Unto my roof, lie mute in me;

If thy neglect within me spring,
Or aught I do, but Salem sing.

* Dr. Donne's Poems, &c. Ps. 137, p. 284, edit. 1719, 24to.

IV.

But thou, O Lord, shalt not forget

To quit the plains of Edom's race,
Who causelessly, yet hotly set
Thy holy city to deface,

Did thus the bloody victors whet,

What time they enter'd first the place,
Down, down with it at any hand,
Make all a waste, let nothing stand."

V.

And Babylon, that didst us waste,
Thyself shalt one day wasted be:
And happy he, who what thou hast
Unto us done, fhall do to thee;
Like bitterness shall make thee taste,
Like woeful objects make thee see:
Yea, happy who thy little ones
Shall take and dash against the stones.

No 19. THURSDAY, APRIL 2, 1713.

Ne te semper inops agitet vexetque cupido ;
Ne pavor, et rerum mediocriter utilium spes.

HOR. 1 Ep. xviii. 98.

Lest avarice, still poor, disturb thine ease;
Or fear should shake, or cares thy mind abuse,
Or ardent hope for things of little use.

CREECH.

It was prettily observed by somebody concerning the great vices, that there are three which give pleasure, as covetousness, gluttony, and lust; one, which tastes of nothing but pain, as envy; the rest

have a mixture of pleasure and pain, as anger and pride. But when a man considers the state of his own mind, about which every member of the Christian world is supposed at this time to be employed, he will find that the best defence against vice is preserving the worthiest part of his own spirit pure from any great offence against it. There is a magnanimity which makes us look upon ourselves with disdain, after we have been betrayed by sudden desire, opportunity of gain, the absence of a person who excels us, the fault of a servant, or the ill fortune of an adversary, into the gratification of lust, covetousness, envy, rage, or pride; when the more sublime part of our souls is kept alive, and we have not repeated infirmities until they become vicious habits.

The vice of covetousness is what enters deepest into the soul of any other; and you may have seen men, otherwise the most agreeable creatures in the world, so seized with the desire of being richer, that they shall startle at indifferent things, and live in a continual guard and watch over themselves from a remote fear of expence. No pious man can be so circumspect in the care of his conscience, as the covetous man is in that of his pocket.

If a man would preserve his own spirit, and his natural approbation of higher and more worthy pursuits, he could never fall into this littleness, but his mind would be still open to honour and virtue, in spite of infirmities and relapses. But what extremely discourages me in my precautions as a Guardian, is, that there is an universal defection from the admiration of virtue. Riches and outward splendor have taken up the place of it; and no man thinks he is mean, if he is not poor. But alas! this despicable spirit debases our very

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