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of it, I will let you know his thoughts. I defire you would let me know whether you are at leifure or not? I have defign which I fhall open a month or two hence, with the affiftance of the few like your self. If your thoughts are unengaged, I fhall explain my felf further. I am

* LETTER

VI.

Your, &c.

Y

The Anfwer.

Nov. 16, 1712.

OU oblige me by the indulgence you have fhewn to the poem I fent you, but will oblige me much more by the kind feverity I hope for from you. No errors are fo trivial, but they deferve to be mended. But fince you fay you fee nothing that may be call'd a fault, can you but think it fo, that I have confin'd -the attendance of Guardian fpirits to Heavens favourites only I could point you to several, but 'tis my business to be informed of thofe faults I do not know, and as for those I do, not to talk of 'em but to correct 'em. You fpeak of that poem in a ftyle I neither merit, nor expect; but I affure you, if you freely mark or dafh out, I fhall look upon your blots to be its greatest beauties. I mean if Mr. Addison and your felf fhou'd like it in the whole; otherwife the trouble of correction is what I would not take, for I

*This is not now to be found in the Temple of Fame, which was the Poem here spoken of

was

was really fo diffident of it as to let it lie by me these two years, juft as you now see it. I am afraid of nothing fo much as to impofe any thing on the world which is unworthy of its acceptance.

As to the last period of your letter, I fhall be very ready and glad to contribute to any design that tends to the advantage of mankind, which I am fure all yours do. I wish I had but as much capacity as leifure, for I am perfectly idle: (a fign I have not much capacity.)

be

If you will entertain the beft opinion of me, pleas'd to think me your friend. Affure Mr. Addifon of my most faithful service, of every one's esteem he must be affur'd already. I am

Your, &c.

I

LETTER VII.

To Mr. Steele.

Nov. 29, 1712.

Am forry you publish'd that notion about Adrian's verfes as mine: had I imagin'd you wou'd use my name, I fhou'd have exprefs'd my fentiments with more modefty and diffidence. I only fent it to have your opinion, and not to publifh my own, which I diftrufted. But I think the fuppofition you draw

Hence it appears this Poem was writ before the Author was 22 Years old..

from

from the notion of Adrian's being addicted to magick, is a little uncharitable, ("that he might fear no fort of deity, good or bad") fince in the third verfe he plainly teftifies his apprehenfion of a future ftate, by being follicitous whither his foul was going as to what you mention of his ufing gay and ludicrous expreffions, I have own'd my opinion to be that the expreffions are not fo, but that diminutives are as often in the Latin tongue used as marks of tendernefs and concern.

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Anima is no more than my foul, animula has the force of my dear foul. To fay virgo bella is not half for endearing as virguncula bellula, and had Auguftus only call'd Horace lepidum hominem, it had amounted to no more than that he thought him a pleafant fellow: 'twas the homunciolum that expreft the love and tenderness that great Emperor had for him. And perhaps I fhould my felf be much better pleas'd, if I were told you call'd me your little friend, than if you complimented me with the title of a great genius, or an eminent hand, as Jacob does all his authors. I am your, &c.

* LETTER VIII.

From Mr. Steele.

Decemb. 4, 1712.

THis is to defire of you that you would please

to make an Ode as of a chearful dying spirit, that is to fay, the Emperor Adrian's Animula vagula put into two or three ftanzas for mufick. If you comply with this, and fend me word fo, you will very particularly oblige your, &c.

LETTER

*LETTER IX.

I Do not fend you word I will do, but have already done the thing you defire of me. You have it (as Cowley calls it) juft warm from the brain. It came to me the firft moment I waked this morning: Yet you'll fee it was not fo abfolutely inspiration, but that I had in my head not only the verses of Adrian, but the fine fragment of Sapho.

&c.

The dying Christian to his Soul,

O D E.

1.

Vital Spark of heav'nly flame!
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame;
Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying,
Oh the pain, the blifs of dying!
Ceafe, fond Nature, ceafe thy ftrife,
And let me languifh into life.

II.

Hark! they whifper; Angels fay,
Sifter Spirit, come away!

What

What is this abforbs me quite?
Steals my fenfes, fhuts my fight,
Drowns my Spirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my foul, can this be Death?

III.

The world recedes; it disappears!
Heav'n opens on my eyes! my ears
With founds feraphick ring:
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O Grave! where is thy Victory?
O Death! where is thy Sting?

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July 20, 1713.

I Am more joy'd at your return than I should be at

that of the Sun, fo much as I wifh for him this melancholy wet season ; but 'tis his fate too, like your's, to be difpleafing to Owls and obscene animals, who cannot bear his luftre. What put me in mind of thefe night-birds was John Dennis, whom I think you are best revenged upon, as the Sun was in the fable upon those bats and beaftly birds above-mentioned, I only by fbining on. I am fo far from efteeming it any misfortune, that I congratulate you upon having your fhare in that, which all the great men and all the good men that ever lived have had their part of, Envy and Calumny. To be uncenfured and to be obfcure, is the fame thing. You may conclude from what I here fay, that 'twas never in my thoughts to have offered you my pen in any direct reply to fuch a Critic,

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