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Is hearts of Kings or arms of Queens who lay
(How happy !), those to ruin, these betray,
Mark by what wretched steps great grows,
From dirt and sea-weed as proud Venice rose ;
One equal course how Guilt and Greatness ran,
And all that raised the Hero sunk the Man.
Now Europe's Laurels on his brows behold,
But stained with blood, or ill-exchanged for gold :
What wonder triumphs never turned his brain,
Filled with mean fear to lose, mean joy to gain.
Hence see him modest, free from pride or show ;
Some Vices were too high, but none too low.
Go then, indulge thy age in Wealth and Ease,
Stretched on the spoils of plundered palaces :
Alas ! what wealth, which no one act of fame
E'er taught to shine, or sanctified from shame!
Alas ! what ease, those furies of thy life,
Ambition, Av'rice, and the imperious Wife,
The trophied Arches, storied Halls invade,
And haunt their slumbers in the pompous

No joy, no pleasure from successes past,
Timid, and therefore treacherous, to the last.
Hear him, in accents of a pining ghost,
Sigh, with his captive, for his offspring lost.
Behold him loaded with unreverenced years,
Bathed in unmeaning, unrepentant tears,
Dead, by regardless Vet'rans borne on high,
Dry pomps, and obsequies without a sigh.
Who now his fame or fortune shall prolong?
In vain his consort bribes for venal song. 3



30 35

1 He forgot to correct “their” to “his” in this line.

2 Marshal Tallard, who was himself taken prisoner, and whose son was killed at the battle of Bleuheim. Addison alludes to the death of the latter in The Carnpaign :

“ Unfortunate Tallard ! oh, who can name

The pangs of rage, of sorrow, and of shame,
That with mixed tumult in thy bosom swelled,
When first thou saw'st thy bravest troops repelled,
Thine only son pierced with a deadly wound,
Choked in his blood, and gasping on the ground?
Thyself in bondage by the victor kept,

The chief, the father and the captive wept."
Marlborough's only son, the Marquis of Blandford, died on the 20th of February, 1708.

3 See Introductory Notes to Second Moral Essay, p. 87.

No son, nor grandson, shall the line sustain,
The husband toils, the Adulterer sweats in vain:
In vain a nation's zeal, a senate's cares.
“Madness and Lust ” 1 (said God) “ be you his heirs ;
O'er his vast heaps, in drunkenness of pride,
Go wallow, Harpies, and your prey divide !"

Alas! not dazzled with his noontide ray,
Compute the morn and evening of his day :
The whole amount of that enormous Fame
A Tale ! that blends the Glory with the Shame!


i Alluding to the character of Henrietta, Duchess of Marlborough, satirised in the Second Moral Essay as Philomede.




Extract from a letter dated Twickenham, 14th Nov., 1731. “You live not far from Ross. I desire you to get me an exact information of the Man of Ross. What was his Xtian and surname, what year he dyed, and about what age? And to transcribe his epitaph if he had one, and any particulars you can procure about him. I intend to make him an example in a Poem of mine.

TWICKENHAM, June 7, 1732. DEAR SIR, Before I received y' last I intended to write to you my thanks for ye great Diligence (or let me give it a higher title) Zeal you have shown in giving me so many particulars of the Man of Ross. They are more than sufficient for my honest purpose of setting up his fame as an example to greater and wealthier men how they ought to use their Fortunes. You know few of these particulars can be made to shine in verse, but I have selected the most affecting, and added two or three which I learned from other hands. A small exaggeration you must allow me as a Poet, yet I was determined the ground work at least should be truth, which made me so scrupulous in my enquiries, and sare, considering that the world is bad enough to be always extenuating and lessening what Virtue is among us, it is but reasonable to pay it sometimes a little over measure to balance that injustice, especially when it is done for example and encouragement to others. If any man shall ever happen to endeavour to emulate the Man of Ross, 'twill be no manner of harm if I make him think he was something more charitable and more Beneficent than really he was, for so much more good it wld put the imitator upon doing, and further I am satisfyed in my conscience (from ye strokes in 2 or 3 accounts I have of his character) that it was in his will and in his heart to have done every good a Poet can imagine.

My motive in singling out this man was twofold. First to distinguish Real and solid worth from showish or plausible expense, and virtue from vanity ; and secondly to humble the pride of greater men, by an opposition of one so obscure and so distant from all ye sphere of public glory-this proud town. To send you any of the particular verses will be much to the prejudice of the whole, which if it has any Beauty derives it from the manner in which it is Placed as ye contraste (as ye Painters call it) in, which it stands with ye pompous figures of farnous or rich or high born men.

I was not sorry he had no monument, and will put that circumstance into a note, perhaps into the body of the Poem itself (unless you entreat the contrary in y own favour by y' zeal to erect one). I would however in this case spare

1 The originals of these letters, with others, are now in the possession of W. R. Baker, Esq., Bayfordbury, Herts. VOL. III.-POETRY.


y' censure upon his Heir (so well as he deserves it), because I daresay after seeing his Picture every body will turn that circumstance to his honour, and conclude the Man of Ross himself wd not have any monument in memory of his own good name.

I have no thought of printing ye Poem (which is an Epistle on the Use of Riches) this long time; perhaps not till it is accompanied by many others ; and at a time when telling the truth and making and drawing exemplary pictures of men and manners can be of no disservice to the Author, and occasion no slanderer to mistake them and apply them falsely, as I was lately serve in the character of Timon. But I wish for nothing more than to see you here on the Quiet Banks of the Thames—where any of these things should be frankly shewn to you.

My portrait by Dohl I have sent a week ago to ynephew; you oblige me in ye copy of my old friend Dr. Garth, and you will always oblige me by continuing to write to me. As to Dr. Bentley and Milton, I think the one above and ye other below all criticism. Adieu, and Health and Peace and Fair Weather attend you.



(Address not preserved, but sent to Tonson at The Hazells, Ledbury.)





This small, well polished gem (yo work of years)
In Dryden's diction still more bright appears.
Yet here how faint each Image seems to shine,
Matched with thy soul's rich unexhausted miue!
Whence endless streams of fair Ideas flow,

on ye sketch, or on ye canvass glow,
Where Beauty, waking all her forms, supplies
An Angel's sweetness or a Berkeley's' eyes.

Nature to thee has all her graces shown,
And gave thee words to make those graces known.
If Raphael writ, or if Leandro wrought,
The verse is perished, or the piece forgot ;
Even Fresnoy painted with unfruitful pains ;
The artist lost, the critic yet remains.
Of Jervas only future years shall tell,
None practised better, none explained so well.
Thou only saw'st what others could not know,
Or if they saw it, only thou canst show.

Like friendly colours our kind arts unite,
Each from the mixture gathering strength and light;
Their forms, their features in resemblance strike,
As twins they vary, and as twins are like,
Smit with the love of sister arts we came,
And met congenial, mingling flame with flame.
How oft in pleasing labours of the day
Long summer suns rolled un perceived away !?
At night we met [?], each finding, like a friend,
Something to blame, and something to commend
How oft in fancy long amusement sought [?],
And form[ed) the distant journey in our thought !

Smit with the love of art, methinks, we go,
Together tread the eternal Alpine snow.

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1 Lady Louisa Lenpox, eldest daughter of Charles, first Duke of Richmond, and wife of James, third Earl of Berkeley. She was appointed in 1714 Lady of the Besichamber tu the Princess of Wales, afterwards Queen Caroline. She died of small-pox, Jan. 1716-7.

2 Or

In kindred studies } might we wcar the day,

And suns on suns roll unperceived away. 3 The MS. is here quite undecipherable.

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