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No. 88.1 Monday, May 26, 1712.

-Tibi res antiquæ laudis et artis Ingredior; sanctos ausus recludere fontes. Virg. Georg. ii. 174. For thee, I dare unlock the sacred spring, And arts disclos'd by ancient sages sing. 'MR. SPECTATOR, -It is my custom, when I read your papers, to read over the quotations in the authors from whence you take them. As you mentioned a passage lately out of the second chapter of Solomon's Song, it occasioned my looking into it; and, upon reading it, I thought the ideas so exquisitely soft and tender, that I could not help making this paraphrase of it: which, now it is done, I can as little forbear sending to you. Some marks of your approbation, which I have already received, have given me so sensible a taste of them, that I cannot forbear endeavouring after them as often as I can with any appearance of success. I am, sir, your most obedient humble servant.

THE SECOND CHAPTER OF SOLOMON'S SONG.

T.

"As when in Sharon's field the blushing rose Does its chaste bosom to the morn disclose, Whilst all around the Zephyrs bear

The fragrant odours through the air,

Or as the lily in the shady vale

Does o'er each flow'r with beauteous pride prevail,
And stands with dews and kindest sunshine blest,
In fair pre-eminence, superior to the rest:
So if my Love, with happy influence, shed
His eyes' bright sunshine on his lover's head,
Then shall the rose of Sharon's field,
And whitest lilies, to my beauties yield,

Then fairest flow'rs with studious art combine,
The roses with the lilies join,

And their united charms are less than mine.

II.

"As much as fairest lilies can surpass
A thorn in beauty, or in height the grass;
So does my Love, among the virgins shine,
Adorn'd with graces more than half divine:
Or as a tree, that, glorious to behold,
Is hung with apples all of ruddy gold,
Hesperian fruit, and, beautifully high,
Extends its branches to the sky;

So does my Love the virgins' eyes invite;
"Tis he alone can fix their wand'ring sight,
Among ten thousand eminently bright.
III.

"Beneath his pleasing shade
My wearied limbs at ease I laid,

And on his fragrant boughs reclin'd my head,
I pull'd the golden fruit with eager haste;
Sweet was the fruit, and pleasing to the taste!
With sparkling wine he crown'd the bowl,
With gentle ecstacies he fill'd my soul;
Joyous we sat beneath the shady grove,
And o'er my head he hung the banners of his love.
IV.

"I faint! I die! my lab'ring breast
Is with the mighty weight of love opprest!
I feel the fire possess my heart,

And pain convey'd to every part.

Through all my veins the passion flies,
My feeble soul forsakes its place,
A trembling faintness seals my eyes,

And paleness dwells upon my face:
O! let my love with pow'rful odours stay
My fainting love-sick soul, that dies away,
One hand beneath me let him place,
With t'other press me in a chaste embrace.
V.

"I charge you, nymphs of Sion, as you go
Arm'd with the sounding quiver and the bow,
Whilst thro' the lonesome woods you rove,
You ne'er disturb my sleeping love.
Be only gentle Zephyrs there
With downy wings to fan the air;
Let sacred silence dwell around,

To keep off each intruding sound.

And when the balmy slumber leaves his eyes, May he to joys,unknown till then, arise!

VI.

"But see! he comes! with what majestic gait
He onward bears his lovely state!

Now through the lattice he appears,
With softest words dispels my fears.
Arise, my fair one, and receive
All the pleasures love can give!
For now the sullen winter's past,
No more we fear the northern blast;
No storms nor threat'ning clouds appear,
No falling rains deform the year;
My love admits of no delay,
Arise, my fair, and come away!
VII.

"Already, see! the teeming earth

Brings forth the flow'rs, her beauteous birth,
The dews, and soft-descending show'rs,
Nurse the new-born tender flow'rs.
Hark! the birds melodious sing,
And sweetly usher in the spring.
Close by his fellow sits the dove,
And billing whispers her his love.
The spreading vines with blossoms swell,
Diffusing round a grateful smell.
Arise, my fair one, and receive
All the blessings love can give :
For love admits of no delay,
Arise, my fair, and come away!
VIII.

"As to its mate the constant dove
Flies through the covert of the spicy grove,
So let us hasten to some lonely shade,
There let me safe in thy lov'd arms be laid,
Where no intruding bateful noise

Shall damp the sound of thy melodious voice; Where I may gaze, and mark each beauteous grace: For sweet thy voice, and lovely is thy face.

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those, as men who have too much interest in this case to be impartial evidences.

was sold for thirty pounds. As it was writ- | brated, since our adversaries challenge all ten by one Jordanus Brunus, a professed atheist, with a design to depreciate religion, every one was apt to fancy, from the extravagant price it bore, that there must be something in it very formidable.

I must confess that, happening to get a sight of one of them myself, I could not forbear perusing it with this apprehension; but found there was so very little danger in it, that I shall venture to give my reader a fair account of the whole plan upon which this wonderful treatise is built.

The author pretends that Jupiter once upon a time, resolved upon a reformation of the constellations: for which purpose, having summoned the stars together, he complains to them of the great decay of the worship of the gods, which he thought so much the harder, having called several of those celestial bodies by the names of the heathen deities, and by that means made the heavens as it were a book of the pagan theology. Momus tells him that this is not to be wondered at, since there were so many scandalous stories of the deities. Upon which the author takes occasion to cast reflections upon all other religions, concluding that Jupiter, after a full hearing, discarded the deities out of heaven, and called the stars by the names of the moral virtues.

The short fable, which has no pretence in it to reason or argument, and but a very small share of wit, has however recommended itself, wholly by its impiety, to those weak men who would distinguish themselves by the singularity of their opinions.

There are two considerations which have

But what has been often urged as a consideration of much more weight, is not only the opinion of the better sort, but the general consent of mankind to this great truth; which I think could not possibly have come to pass, but from one of the three following reasons: either that the idea of a God is innate and co-existent with the mind itself; or that this truth is so very obvious, that it is discovered by the first exertion of reason in persons of the most ordinary capacities; or lastly, that it has been delivered down to us through all ages by a tradition from the first man.

The atheists are equally confounded, to whichever of these three causes we assign it; they have been so pressed by this last argument from the general consent of mankind, that after great search and pains they pretend to have found out a nation of atheists, I mean that polite people the Hottentots.

I dare not shock my readers with the description of the customs and manners of these barbarians, who are in every respect scarce one degree above brutes, having no language among them but a confused gabble, which is neither well understood by themselves nor others.

It is not, however, to be imagined how much the atheists have gloried in these their good friends and allies.

If we boast of a Socrates or a Seneca, they may now confront them with these great philosophers the Hottentots.

Though even this point has, not without reason, been several times controverted, I see no manner of harm it could do to religion, if we should entirely give them up this elegant part of mankind."

been often urged against atheists, and which they never yet could get over. The first is, that the greatest and most eminent persons of all ages have been against them, and always complied with the public forms of Methinks nothing more shows the weakworship established in their respective coun-ness of their cause, than that no division of tries, when there was nothing in them either derogatory to the honour of the Supreme Being, or prejudicial to the good of mankind. The Platos and Ciceros among the ancients; the Bacons, the Boyles, and the Lockes, among our own countrymen; are all instances of what I have been saying; not to mention any of the divines, however cele

Mr. Joseph Ames, of Sir Peter Thompson, and of M. C.

Tutet, esq. among whose books it was lately sold by auction, at Mr. Gerrard's in Litchfield-street. The author of this book, Giordano Bruno, was a native of

Nola, in the kingdom of Naples, and burnt at Rome by order of the inquisition in 1600. Morhoff, speaking of atheists, says, 'Jordanum tamen Brunum huic classi non annumerarem-manifesto in illo atheismi vestigia non deprehendo. Polyhist. i. 1. 8. 22. Bruno published many of here was printed, not at Paris, as is said in the titlepage, nor in 1544, but at London, and in 1584, 12mo. dedicated to sir Philip Sidney. It was for some time so little regarded, that it was sold with five other books of

other writings said to be atheistical. The book spoken

the same author, for 25 pence French, at the sale of Mr. Bigor's library in 1706; but it is now very scarce, and has been sold at the exorbitant price of 50%. Niceron. Hommes Illust. tom. xvii. p. 211. There was an edition of it in English in 1713.

their fellow-creatures join with them but those among whom they themselves own reason is almost defaced, and who have but little else but their shape which can entitle them to any place in the species.

Besides these poor creatures, there have now and then been instances of a few crazy people in several nations who have denied the existence of a deity.

The catalogue of these is, however, very short; even Vanina, the most celebrated champion for the cause, professed before his judges that he believed the existence of a God: and, taking up a straw which lay before him on the ground, assured them that alone was sufficient to convince him of it: alleging several arguments to prove that it was impossible nature alone could create any thing.

I was the other day reading an account of Casimir Lyszynski, a gentleman of Poland, who was convicted and executed for this crime. The manner of his punishment was very particular. As soon as his body was

burnt, his ashes were put into a cannon, and shot into the air towards Tartary.

their own behaviour so unhappily, that there indeed lies some cause of suspicion I am apt to believe, that if something like upon them. It is certain, that there is no this method of punishment should prevail in authority for persons who have nothing else England (such is the natural good sense of to do, to pass away hours of conversation the British nation,) that whether we ram-upon the miscarriages of other people; but med an atheist whole into a great gun, or pulverized our infidels, as they do in Pofand, we should not have many charges. I should, however, premise, while our ammunition lasted, that, instead of Tartary, we should always keep two or three cannons ready pointed towards the Cape of Good Hope, in order to shoot our unbelievers into the country of the Hottentots.

In my opinion, a solemn judicial death is too great an honour for an atheist; though I must allow the method of exploding him, as it is practised in this ludicrous kind of martyrdom, has something in it proper enough to the nature of his offence.

since they will do so, they who value their reputation should be cautious of appearances to their disadvantage: but very often our young women, as well as the middleaged, and the gay part of those growing old, without entering into a formal league for that purpose, to a woman, agree upon a short way to preserve their characters, and go on in a way that at best is only not vicious. The method is, when an ill-natured or talkative girl has said any thing that bears hard upon some part of another's carriage, this creature, if not in any of their little cabals, is run down for the most censorious, dangerous body in the world. Thus they guard their reputation rather than their modesty; as if guilt lay in being under the imputation of a fault, and not in a commission of it. Orbicilla is the kindest poor thing in town, but the most blushing creature living. It is true, she has not lost the sense of shame, but she has lost the sense of innocence. If she had more confidence, and never did any thing which ought to

There is indeed a great objection against this manner of treating them. Zeal for religion is of so effective a nature that it seldom knows where to rest: for which reason I am afraid, after having discharged our atheists, we might possibly think of shooting off our sectaries; and as one does not foresee the vicissitudes of human affairs, it might one time or other come to a man's own turn to fly out of the mouth of a demi-stain her cheeks, would she not be much culverin.

If any of my readers imagine that I have treated these gentlemen in too ludicrous a manner, I must confess, for my own part, I think reasoning against such unbelievers, upon a point that shocks the common sense of mankind, is doing them too great an honour, giving them a figure in the eye of the world, and making people fancy that they have more in them than they really have.

more modest, without that ambiguous suffusion which is the livery both of guilt and innocence? Modesty consists in being conscious of no ill, and not in being ashamed of having done it. When people go upon any other foundation than the truth of their own hearts for the conduct of their actions, it lies in the power of scandalous tongues to carry the world before them, and make the rest of mankind fall in with the ill for fear of reproach. On the other hand, to do what you ought, is the ready way to make calumny either silent, or ineffectually malicious. Spenser, in his Fairy Queen, says admirably to young ladies under the dis

As for those persons who have any scheme of religious worship, I am for treating such with the utmost tenderness, and should endeavour to show them their errors with the greatest temper and humanity; but as these miscreants are for throwing down re-tress of being defamed: ligion in general, for stripping mankind of what themselves own is of excellent use in all great societies, without once offering to establish any thing in the room of it, I think the best way of dealing with them, is to retort their own weapons upon them, which are those of scorn and mockery. X.

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The best,' said he, that I can you advise,
Is to avoid th' occasion of the ill:
For when the cause, whence evil doth arise,
Removed is, th' effect surceaseth still.
Abstain from pleasure, and restrain your will,
Subdue desire, and bridle loose delight:
Use scanty diet, and forbear your fill;

Shun secresy, and talk in open sight;
So shall you soon repair your present evil plight.'

Instead of this care over their words and actions, recommended by a poet in old queen Bess's days, the modern way is to say and do what you please, and yet be the prettiest sort of woman in the world. If fathers and brothers will defend a lady's honour, she is quite as safe as in her own innocence. Many of the distressed, who suffer under the malice of evil tongues, are so harmless, that they are every day they live asleep till twelve at noon; concern themselves with nothing but their own persons till two; take their necessary food between that time and four; visit, go to the

Ebullit patrui præclarum funus! Et O si
Sub rastro crepet argenti mihi seria dextro
Hercule pupillumve utinam, quem proximus hæres
Impello, expungam!
Pers. Sat. ii. v. 3.

-Thou know'st to join

No bribe unhallow'd to a prayer of thine;
Thine, which can ev'ry ear's full test abide,
Nor need be mutter'd to the gods aside!
No, thou aloud may'st thy petitions trust;
Thou need'st not whisper, other great ones must.
For few, my friend, few dare like thee be plain,
And prayer's low artifice at shrines disdain.
Few from their pious mumblings dare depart,
And make profession of their inmost heart.
Keep me, indulgent Heaven, through life sincere,
Keep my mind sound, my reputation clear,
These wishes they can speak, and we can hear.
Thus far their wants are audibly express'd;
Then sinks the voice, and muttering groans the rest.
Hear, hear at length, good Hercules, my vow!
O chink some pot of gold beneath my plow!
Could I, O could I to my ravish'd eyes
See my rich uncle's pompous funeral rise;
Or could I once my ward's cold corpse attend;
Then all were mine!

play, and sit up at cards till towards the ensuing morn; and the malicious world shall draw conclusions from innocent glances, short whispers, or pretty familiar railleries with fashionable men, that these fair ones are not as rigid as vestals. It is certain, say these 'goodest' creatures, very well, that virtue does not consist in constrained behaviour and wry faces; that must be allowed: but there is a decency in the aspect and manner of ladies, contracted from a habit of virtue, and from general reflections that regard a modest conduct, all which may be understood, though they cannot be described. A young woman of this sort claims an esteem mixed with affection and honour, and meets with no defamation; or, if she does, the wild malice is overcome with an undisturbed perseverance in her innocence. To speak freely, there are such coveys of coquettes about WHERE Homer represents Phoenix, the this town, that if the peace were not kept tutor of Achilles, as persuading his pupil to by some impertinent tongues of their own lay aside his resentment, and give himself sex, which keep them under some re-up to the entreaties of his countrymen, the straint, we should have no manner of engagement upon them to keep them in any tolerable order.

As I am a Spectator, and behold how plainly one part of woman-kind balance the behaviour of the other, whatever I may think of tale-bearers or slanderers, I cannot wholly suppress them, no more than a general would discourage spies. The enemy would easily surprise him whom they knew had no intelligence of their motions. It is so far otherwise with me, that I acknowledge I permit a she-slanderer or two in every quarter of the town, to live in the characters of coquettes, and take all the innocent freedoms of the rest, in order to send me information of the behaviour of the respective sisterhoods.

But as the matter of respect to the world which looks on, is carried on, methinks it is so very easy to be what is in general called virtuous, that it need not cost one hour's reflection in a month to deserve that appellation. It is pleasant to hear the pretty rogues talk of virtue and vice among each other. She is the laziest creature in the world, but I must confess, strictly virtuous; the peevishest hussy breathing, but as to her virtue, she is without blemish. She has not the least charity for any of her acquaintance, but I must allow her rigidly virtuous.' As the unthinking part of the male world call every man a man of honour who is not a coward; so the crowd of the other sex terms every woman who will not be a wench, virtuous. T.

No. 391.] Thursday, May 29, 1712.
-Non tu prece poscis emaci,

Quæ nisi seductis nequeas committere divis:
At bona pars procerum tacita libabit acerra. [susurros
Hand cuivis promptum est, murmurque humilesque
Tollere de templis; et aperto vivere voto.

poet, in order to make him speak in cha-
racter, ascribes to him a speech full of
those fables and allegories which old men
take delight in relating, and which are very
proper for instruction. The gods,' says
he,suffer themselves to be prevailed upon
by entreaties. When mortals have offend-
ed them by their transgressions, they ap-
pease them by vows and sacrifices. You
must know, Achilles, that prayers are the
daughters of Jupiter. They are crippled
by frequently kneeling, have their faces
full of scars and wrinkles, and their eyes
always cast towards heaven. They are
constant attendants on the goddess Ate,
and march behind her. This goddess walks
forward with a bold and haughty air; and,
being very light of foot, runs through the
whole earth, grieving and afflicting the
sons of men. She gets the start of Prayers,
who always follow her, in order to heal
He who
those persons whom she wounds.
honours these daughters of Jupiter, when
they draw near to him, receives great bene-
fit from them; but as for him who rejects
them, they entreat their father to give his
orders to the goddess Ate, to punish him for
his hardness of heart.' This noble allegory
needs but little explanation; for, whether
the goddess Ate signifies injury, as some
have explained it; or guilt in general, as
others; or divine justice, as I am more apt to
think; the interpretation is obvious enough.

I shall produce another heathen fable relating to prayers, which is of a more diverting kind. One would think by some passages in it, that it was composed by Lucian, or at least by some author who has endeavoured to imitate his way of writing; but as dissertations of this nature are more curious than useful, I shall give my reader the fable, without any further inquiries after the author.

Menippus the philosopher was a second Mens bona, fama, fides; hæc clare, et ut audiat hospes time taken up into heaven by Jupiter, when VOL. II.

Illa sibi introrsum et sub lingua immurmurat: O si

15

for his entertainment, he lifted up a trap-he desires me to take his father, who keeps door that was placed by his footstool. At a great estate from him, out of the miseries its rising, there issued through it such a of human life. The old fellow shall live din of cries as astonished the philosopher. till he makes his heart ache, I can tell him Upon his asking what they meant, Jupiter that for his pains." This was followed up told him they were the prayers that were by the soft voice of a pious lady, desiring sent up to him from the earth. Menippus, Jupiter that she might appear amiable and amidst the confusion of voices, which was charming in the sight of her emperor. As so great that nothing less than the ear of the philosopher was reflecting on this exJove could distinguish them, heard the traordinary petition, there blew a gentle words "riches, honour," and "long life," wind through the trap-door which he at repeated in several different tones and lan- first took for a gentle gale of zephyrs, but guages. When the first hubbub of sounds afterwards found it to be a breeze of sighs. was over, the trap-door being left open, They smelt strong of flowers and incense, the voices came up more separate and dis- and were succeeded by most passionate tinct. The first prayer was a very odd one; complaints of wounds and torments, fire it came from Athens, and desired Jupiter and arrows, cruelty, despair and death. to increase the wisdom and beard of his Menippus fancied that such lamentable humble supplicant. Menippus knew it by cries arose from some general execution, the voice to be the prayer of his friend Li- or from wretches lying under the torture; cander the philosopher. This was succeed- but Jupiter told him that they came up to ed by the petition of one who had just laden him from the isle of Paphos, and that he a ship, and promised Jupiter, if he took every day received complaints of the same care of it, and returned it home again full nature from that whimsical tribe of mortals of riches, he would make him an offering who are called lovers. "I am so trifled of a silver cup. Jupiter thanked him for with," says he, "by this generation of both nothing; and bending down his ear more sexes, and find it so impossible to please attentively than ordinary, heard a voice them, whether I grant or refuse their peticomplaining to him of the cruelty of an tions, that I shall order a western wind for Ephesian widow, and begged him to breed the future to intercept them in their pascompassion in her heart. "This," says sage, and blow them at random upon the Jupiter, "is a very honest fellow. I have earth." The last petition I heard was from received a great deal of incense from him; a very aged man of near a hundred years I will not be so cruel to him as not to hear old, begging but for one year more of life, his prayers. He was then interrupted and then promising to be contented. “This with a whole volley of vows which were is the rarest old fellow!" says Jupiter; "he made for the health of a tyrannical prince has made this prayer to me for above by his subjects, who prayed for him in his twenty years together. When he was but presence. Menippus was surprised after fifty years old, he desired only that he having listened to prayers offered up with might live to see his son settled in the world: so much ardour and devotion, to hear low I granted it. He then begged the same fawhispers from the same assembly, expos- vour for his daughter, and afterwards that tulating with Jove for suffering such a he might see the education of a grandson. tyrant to live, and asking him how his When all this was brought about, he puts thunder could lie idle? Jupiter was so up a petition that he might live to finish a offended with these prevaricating rascals, house he was building. In short, he is an that he took down the first vows, and puffed unreasonable old cur, and never wants an away the last. The philosopher, seeing a excuse; I will hear no more of him." Upon great cloud mounting upwards, and making which he flung down the trap-door in a its way directly to the trap-door, inquired passion, and was resolved to give no more of Jupiter what it meant. "This," says audiences that day.' Jupiter, "is the smoke of a whole hecatomb that is offered me by the general of an army, who is very importunate with me to let him cut off a hundred thousand men that are drawn up in array against him. What does the impudent wretch think I see in him, to believe that I will make a sacrifice of so many mortals as good as himself, and all this to his glory forsooth? But hark!" says Jupiter, "there is a voice I never heard but in time of danger: 'tis a rogue that is shipwrecked in the Ionian sea. I saved him on a plank but three days ago upon his promise to mend his manners; the scoundrel is not worth a groat, and yet has the impudence to offer me a temple, if 1 will keep him from sinking.-But yonder," says he, "is a special youth for you;

Notwithstanding the levity of this fable, the moral of it very well deserves our attention, and is the same with that which has been inculcated by Socrates and Plato, not to mention Juvenal and Persius, who have each of them made the finest satire in their whole works upon this subject. The vanity of men's wishes which are the natural prayers of the mind, as well as many of those secret devotions which they offer to the Supreme Being, are sufficiently exposed by it. Among other reasons for set forms of prayer, I have often thought it a very good one, that by this means the folly and extravagance of men's desires may be kept within due bounds, and not break out in absurd and ridiculous petitions on so grea and solemn an occasion,

I.

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