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ger's own tomb, which has (I remember) a wide surbased arch scalloped ornaments, &c. for this can be no older than the nave itself, which was built by Archbishop Melton after the year 1315, one hundred and thirty years after Roger's death.

I have compared Helvetius and Elfrida, as you desired me,* and find thirteen parallel passages; five of

As the plagiarism to which Mr. Gray here alludes, is but little known, and, I think, for its singularity, is somewhat curious, I shall beg the reader's patience while I dilate upon it; though I am aware it will stretch this note to an unconscionable length. M. Helvetius, in the third chapter of his third Essay de l'Esprit, which treats of the Extent of Memory, means to prove that this faculty, in the extreme, is not necessary to constitute a great genius. For this purpose he examines whether the greatness of the very different talents of Locke and of Milton ought to be considered as the effect of their possessing this talent in an extraordinary degree. He then proceeds as follows: "As the last example of the small extent of memory necessary to a fine imagination, I shall give in a note the translation of a piece of English poetry; which, with the preceding, will, I believe, prove to those who would decompose the works of illustrious men, that a great genius does not necessarily suppose a great memory." I now set down that note with references to Elfrida underneath it, and I choose to give it in the English translation printed in 1759, that the parallel passages may be the more obvious at first sight." A young virgin, awaked and guided by Love, goes before the appearance of Aurora to a valley, where she waits for the coming of her lover, who, at the rising of the sun, is to offer a sacrifice to the gods. Her soul, in the soft situation in which she is placed by the hopes of approaching happiness, indulges, while waiting for him, the pleasure of contemplating the beauties of nature, and the rising of that luminary that was to bring the object of her tenderness. She expresses herself thus:

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Already the sun gilds the tops of those antique oaks, and the waves of those falling torrents that roar among the rocks shine with his beams; already I perceive the summit of those shaggy mountains whence arise the vaults which, half-concealed in the air, offer a formidable retreat to the solitary who there retires.a Night folds up her veil. Ye wanton fires, that mislead the wandering traveller, retireb to the quagmires and marshy fens; and thou sun, lord of the heavens, who fillest the air with reviving heat, who sowest with dewy pearls the flowers of these meadows, and givest colours to the varied beauties of nature, receive my first homage, and hasten thy course. Thy appearance proclaims that of my lover. Freed from the pious cares that detain him still at the

a How nobly does this venerable wood,
Gilt with the glories of the orient sun,
Embosom yon fair mansion!

-On the shaggy mound,

Where tumbling torrents roar around;
Where pendant mountains o'er your head
Stretch a formidable shade-

Where lull'd in pious peace the hermit lies.

b Away, ye goblins all,

Wont the bewilder'd traveller to daunt

Hail to thy living light

Ambrosial morn

That bids each dewy-spangled flow'ret rise

And dart around its vermel dies

Unfolds the scene of glory to our eye,

Where thron'd in artless majesty,

The cherub Beauty sits on Nature's rustic shrine.—

which, at least, are so direct and close as to leave no
shadow of a doubt, and therefore confirm all the rest. It
is a phænomenon that you will be in the right to inform
foot of the altars, love will soon bring him to mine. Let all around me partake of my
joy. Let all bless the rising luminary by which we are enlightened. Ye flowers
that inclose in your bosoms the odours that cool night condenses there, open your
buds, and exhale in the air your balmy vapours. I know not whether the delight-
ful intoxication that possesses my soul, does not embellish whatever I behold; but
the rivulet, that in pleasing meanders winds along this valley, enchants me with
his murmurs. Zephyrus caresses me with his breath; the fragrant plants, pressed
under my feet, waft to my senses their perfume. Oh! if Felicity sometimes condescends
to visit the abode of mortals, to these places, doubtless, she retires.e But with what
secret trouble am I agitated? Already impatience mingles its poison with the
sweetness of my expectation. This valley has already lost all its beauties. Is joy
then so fleeting? It is as easy to snatch it from us, as for the light down of these plants
to be blown away by the breath of the zephyrs. In vain have I recourse to flattering
Hope. Each moment increases my disturbance. He will come no more. Who
keeps him at a distance from me? What duty more sacred than that of calming
the inquietudes of love! But what do I say? Fly jealous suspicions, injurious to his
fidelity,s and formed to extinguish my tenderness. If jealousy grows by the side of
love, it will stifle it, if not pulled up by the roots; it is the ivy which, by a verdant chain,
embraces, but dries up the trunk which serves for its support.h I know my lover too
well to doubt of his tenderness. He, like me, has, far from the pomp of courts,
sought the tranquil asylum of the fields. Touched by the simplicity of my heart,
and by my beauty, my sensual rivals call him in vain to their arms. Shall he be
seduced by the advances of coquetry, which, on the cheek of the young maid, tarnishes
the snow of innocence and the carnation of modesty, and daubs it with a whiteness of art
and the paint of effrontery? What do I say? his contempt for her is perhaps only
a snare for me. Can I be ignorant of the partiality of men, and the arts they em-
ploy to seduce us? Nourished in a contempt for our sex, it is not us, it is their plea-
sures that they love. Cruel as they are, they have placed in the rank of the virtues
the barbarous fury of revenge, and the mad love of their country; but never have
they reckoned fidelity among the virtues. Without remorse they abuse innocence,
and often their vanity contemplates our griefs with delight. But no; fly far from
me, ye odious thoughts, my lover will come! A thousand times have I experienced
d "Twill not be long, ere his unbending mind
Shall lose in sweet oblivion every care

Among th' embowering shades that veil Elfrida.
e The soft air

Salutes me with most cool and temperate breath,
And, as I tread, the flow'r-besprinkled lawn
Sends sup a gale of fragrance. I should guess,
If e'er Content deign'd visit mortal clime,
This was her place of dearest residence.
For Safety now sits wav'ring on your love,
Like the light down upon the thistle's beard,
Which ev'ry breeze may part,

Avaunt! ye vain delusive fears.

h See, Elfrida;

Ah see! how round yon branching elm the ivy

Clasps its green chain, and poisons what supports it.

Nor less injurious to the shoots of love

Is sickly jealousy. i --To guard

Your beauties from the blast of courtly gales.

The crimson blush of virgin Modesty,

The delicate soft tints of Innocence,

There all fly off, and leave no boast behind
But well-rang'd, faded features.

yourself about, and which I long to understand. Another phænomenon is, that I read it without finding it out all I remember is, that I thought it not at all English, and did not much like it; and the reason is plain, for the lyric flights and choral flowers suited not in the least with the circumstances or character of the speaker, as he had contrived it.

XLV. MR. GRAY TO MR. BROWN.*

February 17, 1763.

You will make my best acknowledgments to Mr. Howe; who, not content to rank me in the number of his friends, is so polite as to make excuses for having done me that honour.

it: as soon as I perceive him my agitated mind is calm, and I often forget the too jus cause I have for complaint; for near him I can only know happiness.k Yet if he is treacherous to me; if, in the very moment when my love excuses him, he consummates the crime of infidelity in another bosom, may all nature take up arms in revenge! may he perish! What do I say? Ye elements, be deaf to my cries! Thou earth, open not thy profound abyss! let the monster walk the time prescribed him on thy splendid surface, let him still commit new crimes, and still cause the tears of the too credulous maids to flow; and if Heaven avenges them and punishes him, may it at least be at the prayer of some other unfortunate woman."

k My truant heart

Forgets each lesson that Resentment taught,
And in thy sight knows only to be happy.

In the French it is more literal, "Pres de lui je ne sçais qu'etre heureuse."
Till then, ye elements, rest; and thou, firm earth,

Ope not thy yawning jaws; but let this monster
Stalk his due time on thine affrighted surface:
Yee, let him still go on, still execute
His savage purposes, and daily make
More widows weep, as I do.

Here ends this odd instance of plagiarism. When M. Helvetius was in England, a year or two after I had made the discovery of it, I took my measures (as Mr. Gray advised me) to learn how he came by it; and accordingly requested two noblemen, to whom he was introduced, to ask him some questions concerning it; but I could gain no satisfactory answer. I do not, however, by any means, suppose that the person who cooked up the disjointed parts of my drama into this strange fricasee, was M. Helvetius himself; I rather imagine (as I did from the first) that he was imposed upon by some young English traveller, who contrived this expedient in order to pass with him for a poet. The great philosopher, it is true, has in this note been proved to be the receiver of stolen goods; but out of respect to his numerous fashionable disciples, both abroad and at home, whose credit might suffer with that of their master, I acquit him of what would only be held criminal at the Old Bailey, that he received these goods knowing them to be stolen.

Now master of Pembroke-hall.

t

I was not born so far from the sun, as to be ignorant of Count Algarotti's name and reputation; nor am I so far advanced in years, or in philosophy, as not to feel the warmth of his approbation. The Odes in question, as their motto shews, were meant to be vocal to the intelligent alone. How few they were in my own country, Mr. Howe can testify; and yet my ambition was terminated by that small circle. I have good reason to be proud, if my voice has reached the ear and apprehension of a stranger, distinguished as one of the best judges in Europe.

I am equally pleased with the just applause he bestows on Mr. Mason; and particularly on his Caractacus, which is the work of a man: whereas Elfrida is only that of a boy, a promising boy indeed, and of no common genius: yet this is the popular performance, and the other little known in comparison.

Neither Count Algarotti nor Mr. Howe (I believe) have heard of Ossian, the son of Fingal. If Mr. Howe were not upon the wing, and on his way homewards, I would send it to him in Italy. He would there see that Imagination dwelt many hundred years ago, in all her pomp, on the cold and barren mountains of Scotland. The truth (I believe) is, that, without any respect of climates, she reigns in all nascent societies of men, where the necessities of life force every one to think and act much for himself.*

* One is led to think from this paragraph that the scepticism, which Mr. Gray had expressed before, concerning these works of Ossian, was now entirely removed. (See p. 228.) I know no way of accounting for this (as he had certainly received no stronger evidence of their authenticity) but from the turn of his studies at the time. He had of late much busied himself in antiquities, and consequently had imbibed too much of the spirit of a professed antiquarian: now we know, from a thousand instances, that no set of men are more willingly duped than these, especially by any thing that comes to them under the fascinating form of a new discovery.

XLVI. COUNT ALGAROTTI TO MR. GRAY.

Pisa, 24 Aprile, 1763.

SONO stato lungo tempo in dubbio se un dilettante quale io sono, dovea mandare alcune sue coserelle a un professore quale è V. S. Illuso, a un arbitro di ogni poetica eleganza. Nè ci volea meno che l'autorità del valorissimo Sig. How per persuadermi a ciò fare. V. S. Illmo accolga queste mie coserelle con quella medesima bontà con cui ha voluto accogliere quella lettera che dice pur poco delle tante cose, che fanno sentire alle anime armoniche di ammirabili suoi versi. Io saro per quanto io porrô, Præco laudum tuarum, e quella mia lettera si stamperà in un nuove Giornale, che si fa in Venezia, intitolato la Minerva, perche sappia la Italia che la Inghilterra, ricca di un *Omero, di uno †Archimede, di un

Demostene, non manca del suo Pindaro. Al Sig". How le non saprei dire quanti obblighi io abbia, ma si maggiore è certamente quello di avermi presentato alla sua Musa, e di avermi procurato la occasione di poterla assicurare della perfetta ed altissima stima, con cui io ho l'honore di sottescrivermi,

De V. S. Illusmo.
Devotis. &c.

ALGAROTTI.

XLVII.

MR. GRAY TO DR. WHARTON.

Pembroke-hall, Aug. 5, 1763.

You may well wonder at my long taciturnity. I wonder too, and know not what cause to assign; for it is certain I think of you daily. I believe it is owing to the nothingness of my history; for except six weeks that I passed in town towards the end of the spring, and a little jaunt to Epsom and Box-hill, I have been here time out

* Milton.

† Newton.

+ Mr. Pitt.

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