"To his friend, on the sight of his Lady. "See where she comes; behold, espy A second Helen's beauteous face; Forbid it Jove, or how shall I Chaste Phenix from a dying urn. Is Celia fallen from above, To court some human race; Here is no Ganymede of love, A Paris, Jove-like grace. To wanton with the sweetest sport As petulants who do resort To the admired Roman court. Is the world's paramour in mind, In this undaunted wrath, Her childish amorist to find Wilder'd in some path, Of woods where noxious creatures lye, If he be void of jealousy. To wander thus, is but in vain, What secret Phillis proves That heaven which mad poets feign Elizium's but in loves. Blest Blest Indies there, but every grace There is an injeweled May On the odoriferous bowers, With the unpregnant sweets, And all to satisfy the sight Still hunting pleasures with delight. ART. XVI. Old Poetry. [A second piece from the Caxtonic volume in the possession of the Marquis of Blandford.] Man with good aduertisement, In mynde compas this subsequent. Dum sedes in mensa, Havyng grete fuson and plente; Pormio do paupere pensa, Relevyng his necessitee. As holy churche techith thee, thyne almes hide and laye, In the pour mannys bosom, and it will for the praye; As water fire quenchith, so almes doth synn allaye, God himself doth saye. The omission is an uncertain abbreviation. 3 Blessid Blessid is that man whiche hath any intelligence, In almannere yll seasons God shalbe his defence, The prophite in his psalme witnessith this my sentence. And also for hym that prophite his prayer thus dooth make, Fere the not, seith Dauid, when man is enhaimod high, Neithir yit his said glory shall than wit hym destende, Wherfor I averre more precious by rightwisnesse, Is a litle good gotenn, thann muche synful richesse; I haue be yong he saith, now drawen in age take hede, A man not knowyng his hono'. is a beste in dede. qd Stevens. J. H. ART. ART. XVII. The Ruminator. Containing a series of moral, sentimental, and critical Essays. N° LVIII. On the Reception originally given to Dr. Johnson's Rambler. The ill-nature of the world amuses itself with the vanity of authors, who seek consolation for present neglect by anticipating the applause of posterity. It is true that this anticipation is often a bubble blown up by the fumes of the writer's brain: but it is equally true that men of the greatest genius, who deserve the highest fame, have frequently no other reward, than the well-founded confidence that Time will do them that justice, which is refused them by their cotempo raries. I am afraid that excellence in many sorts of literary production is rather repulsive to a large portion of readers, as long as they are left to their own unprejudiced judgments. When at length the opinion of the few has prevailed over that of the many, and a reputation has become generally established, the author's works find an universal circulation, because it is fashionable to possess them, and be acquainted with their contents. Of poor Collins, whose Odes could not obtain a vent for one small edition when he first published them himself, impression after impression has been called for since his death, till the number of copies, which in many varied forms are every year taken off at the market, is beyond calculation. Sometimes however men live to reap in their own time that esteem and praise, which was long withheld from them. The booksellers, who very naturally and almost of course appreciate the merits of an author's labours by their vendibility, held Dr. Johnson in his latter years in the highest degree of favour. At that time whatever flowed from his pen met with the most flattering reception. But it was not always so. His RAMBLER, which is almost all essence of thought, unalloyed by those baser ingredients which so commonly add to the quantity without adding to the worth of human compositions, experienced at first a general coldness, discouragement, and even censure and ridicule. The most decisive proof of this will be the following cotemporary extracts from the Correspondence between Mrs. Elizabeth Carter and Miss Talbot. They form a very curious and instructive piece of literary history. From Miss Talbot, Oct. 20, 1750. "The RAMBLER is to me very entertaining. The Letter from Mr. Frolick has a certain strain of humour, and the last from Rhodoclea will, if he makes use of it, give him an excellent opportunity to introduce humourous descriptions of, and reflections on, the London follies and diversions, of which she may be supposed to write him the sentiments of her full heart, sometimes rejoiced, sometimes mortified and disappointed. Then another should write by way of contrast, who voluntarily spends hers or his in the country, rationally enjoys it, describes its frosty prospects, land or sea, its Christmas mirth, joy, and hospitality. Mr. JOHNSON would, I fear, be mortified to hear that people know a paper of his own by the same mark of somewhat |