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TO

THE RIGHT HON. JAMES CRAGGS, ESQ.

HIS MAJESTY'S PRINCIPAL SECRETARY OF STATE.

DEAR SIR, I

last longer than the memory of our friendship and, therefore, I thus publicly bequeath thein to you, in return for the many valuable instances of your affection.

That they may come to you with as little disadvantage as possible, I have left the care of them to one*, whom, by the experience of some years, I know well qualified to answer my intentions. He has already the honour and happiness of being under your protection ; and, as he will very much stand in need of it, I cannot wish him better, than that he may continue to deserve the favour and countenance of such a patron.

I have no tiine to lay out in forming such compliments, as would but ill suit that familiarity between us, which was once my greatest pleasure, and will be my greatest honour hereafter. Instead of them, accept of my hearty withes, that the great reputation you have acquired so early, may increase more and more: and that you may long serve your country with those excellent talents,

and * Mr. Tickell,

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and unblemished integrity, which have fo powerfully recommended you to the most gracious and amiable Monarch that ever filled a throne. May the frankness and generosity of your fpirit continue to soften and subdue your enemies, and gain you many friends, if possible, as fincere as yourself. When you have found such, they cannot wish you more true happiness than I, who am, with the greatest zeal,

Dear SIR,

Your most entirely affectionate friend,

and faithful obedient servant,

June 4, 17192

J. ADDISON.

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HO

ow long, great Poet, Mall thy sacred lays

*Provoke our 'wonder, and transcend our praise ?
Can neither injúries of tiine, or'age,
Damp thy poetic heat, and quench thy rage?
Not so thy Ovid in his exile wrote,
Grief chill'd his breast, and check'd his rising thought :
Pensive and sad, his drooping Musę betrays
The Roman genius in its last decays.

Prevailing warmth has still thy mind poftest,
And second youth is kindled in thy breatt;
Thou mak’t the beauties of the Romans known,
And England boasts of riches not her own ;
Thy lines have heighten'd Virgil's majesty,
And Horace wonders at himself in thee.
Thou teachest Perfius to inform our isle
In smoother numbers, and a clearer style;
And Juvenal, instructed in thy page,
Edges his fatire, and improves his rage.
Thy copy casts a fairer light on all,
And fill out-shines the bright original.
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Now

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