have made fo wretched an use of it. He is an intoxicated philofopher, who never writ but when he was in liquor.

DEAN SWIFT is Rabelais in his fenfes, and frequenting the politeft company. The former indeed is not fo gay as the latter, but then he poffeffes all the delicacy, the juftnefs, the choice, the good taste, in all which particulars our gigling rural vicar Rabelais is wanting. The poetical numbers of Dean Swift are of a fingular and almoft inimitable tafte; true humour, whether in profe or verfe, feems to be his peculiar talent; but whoever is defirous of understanding him perfectly, muft visit the ifland in which he was born.

'TWILL be much easier for you to form an idea of Mr. Pope's works. He is, in my opinion, the most elegant, the most correct poet; and at the fame time the most harmonious (a circumstance which redounds very much to the honour of this, mufe) that England ever gave birth to.

He has mellowed the harsh founds of the English trumpet to the foft accents of the flute, His compofitions may be easily translated, because they are vaftly clear and perspicuous; befides, moft of his fubjects are general, and relative to all nations.

HIS Efay on Criticifm will foon be known. in France, by the translation which l'Abbé de Renel has made of it.

HERE

HERE is an extract from his poem entitled the Rape of the Lock, which I just now tranflated with the latitude I ufually take on these occafions; for once again, nothing can be more ridiculous than to tranflate a poet literally.

UMBRIEL, à l'instant, vieil Gnome rechigné,

Va d'une aile pefante & d'un air renfrogné

Chercher en murmurant la Caverne profonde,

Où loin des doux raïons que répand l'eil du
monde

La Déeffe aux vapeurs a choifi fon féjour,
Les triftes Aquilons y fiftent à l'entour.
Et le foufle mal fain de leur aride baleine
Y porte aux environs la fievre & la mi-
graine.

Sur un riche Sofa derriere un Parevent
Loin des flambeaux, du bruit, des parleurs
du vent,

La quinteufe Déeffe inceffamment repofe,
Le cœur gros de chagrin, fans en favoir la
caufe.

N'aiant penfeé jamais, l'efprit toûjours
troublé,

L'ail chargé, le teint pâle, & hypocondre

enflé.

Lamedifante Envie, eft affife auprès d'elle,
Vicil Spectre féminin, décrépite pucelle,

Avec un air devot déchirant fan prochain, Et chanfonnant les Gens l'Evangile à la

main.

Sur un lit plein de fleurs negligemment pan

chée

Une jeune Beauté non loin d'elle est couchée, C'efl'Affectation qui grassaïe en parlant, Ecoute fans entendre, & lorgne en regar

dant.

Qui rougit fans pudeur, & rit de tout fans joïe,

De cent maux différens prétend qu'elle eft la
proïe;
Et pleine de fanté fous le rouge & le fard,
Se plaint avec molesse, & fe pame avec Art.

UMBRIEL, a dusky, melancholy Sprite
As ever fullied the fair Face of Light,
Down to the central Earth, his proper
Scene,

Repairs to fearch the gloomy Cave of
Spleen.

Swift on his footy Pinions flits the Gnome And in a Vapour reach'd the difmal Dome, No chearful Breeze this fullen Region knows. The dreaded Eaft is all the Wind that blows.

Here, in a Grotto, fhelter'd close from Air,

And fcreen'd in Shades from Day's detefted Glare,

She

She fighs for ever on her penfive Bed,
Pain at her Side, and Megrim at her
Head,

Two Handmaids wait the Throne: Alike in Place,

But diff'ring far in Figure and in Face, Here ftood Ill-nature like an ancient Maid, Her wrinkled Form in black and white array'd;

With Store of Prayers for Mornings, Nights, and Noons,

Her Hand is fill'd; her Bofom with Lampoons.

There Affectation, with a fickly Mein, Shows in ber Cheek the Rofes of eighteen, Practis'd to lifp, and bang the Head afide, Faints into Airs, and languishes with Pride;

On the rich Quilt finks with becoming Woe, Wrapt in a Gown, for Sickness and for Show.

THIS extract in the original, (not in the faint tranflation I have given you of it) may be compared to the defcription of La Molefe (foftness or effeminacy) in Boileau's Lutrin.

METHINKS I now have given you specimens enough from the English poets. I have made fome tranfient mention of their philofophers, but as for good hiftorians among them, I don't know of any; and I 3 indeed

indeed a French Man was forced to write their hiftory. Poffibly the English genius, which is either languid or impetuous, has not yet acquired that unaffected eloquence, that plain but majestic air which history requires. Poffibly too, the fpirit of party, which exhibits objects in a dim and confufed light, may have funk the credit of their hiftorians. One half of the nation is always at variance with the other half. I have met with people who affured me that the duke of Marlborough was a coward, and that Mr. Pope was a fool; just as fome Jefuits in France declare Pafchal to have been a man of little or no genius; and fome Fanfenifts affirm father Bourdaloüe to have been a mere babbler. The Jacobites confider Mary queen of Scots as a pious heroine, but thofe of an oppofite party look upon her as a prostitute, an adulteress, a murderer. Thus the English have memorials of the feveral reigns, but no fuch thing as a hiftory. There is indeed now living, one Mr. Gordon, (the publick are obliged to him for a translation of Tacitus) who is very capable of writing the history of his own country, but Rapin de Theyras got the ftart of him. To conclude, in my opinion, the English have not fuch good hiftorians as the French, have no fuch thing as a real tragedy, have feveral de lightful comedies, fome wonderful paffages

in