fect which this fingular gallantry had upon the captain of the privateer, was no other than an unmanly defire of vengeance for the lofs he had fustained in his feveral attacks. He told the Ipfwich man in a fpeaking-trumpet, that he would not take him aboard, and that he ftaid to fee him fink. The Englishman at the fame time obferved a diforder in the veffel, which he rightly judged to proceed from the difdain which the fhip's crew had of their captain's inhumanity with this hope he went into his boat, and approached the enemy. He was taken in by the failors in fpite of their commander; but though they received him against his command, they treated him when he was in the fhip in the manner he directed. Pottiere caufed his men to hold Goodwin, while he beat him with a stick until he fainted with lofs of blood, and rage of heart; after which he ordered him into irons, witheut allowing him any food, but such as one or two of the men ftole to him under peril of the like ufage: after having kept him feveral days overwhelmed with the mifery of tench, hunger, and forenefs, he brought him into Calais. The governor of the place was foon acquainted with all that had paffed, difmiffed Pottiere from his charge with ignominy, and gave Goodwin all the relief which a man of honour would bestow upon an enemy barbaroufly treated, to recover the imputation of cruelty upon his prince and country.

When Mr. Sentry had read this letter, full of many other circumftances which aggravated the barbarity, he fell into a fort of criticifin upon magnanimity and courage, and argued that they were infeparable; and that courage, without regard to justice and humanity, was no other than the fierceneis of a wild beast.

A good and truly bold fpirit,' continued he, is ever actuated by reafon and a fenfe of honour and duty: the affectation of fuch a fpirit exerts itself in an impudent afpect, an over-bearing confidence, and a certain negligence of giving offence. This is vi

ble in all the cocking youths you fee about this town who are noify in affemblies, unawed by the prefence of • wife and virtuous men; in a word, infenfible of all the honours and de⚫cencies of human life. A fhameless fellow takes advantage of merit cloathed with modefty and magnanimity,

and in the eyes of little people appears fprightly and agreeable; while the man of refolution and true gallantry is overlooked and difregarded, if not defpifed. There is a propriety in all things; and I believe what you scho lars call juft and fublime, in oppofition to turgid and bombaft expreffion, may give you an idea of what I mean, when I fay modefty is the certain indication of a great fpirit, and impudence the 'affectation of it. He that writes with judgment, and never rifes into improper warmths, manifefts the true force of genius; in like manner, he who is quiet and equal in his behaviour, is fupported in that deportment by what we may call true courage. Alas, it is not fo eafy a thing to be a brave man as the unthinking part of mankind imagine: to dare, is not all that there is in it. The privateer, we were just now talking of, had boldnefs enough to attack his enemy, but not greatness of mind enough to admire the fame quality exerted by that enemy in defending himself. Thus his bafe and little mind was wholly taken up in the fordid regard to the prize, of which he failed, and the damage done to his own veffel; and therefore he used an honeft man, who defended his own from him, in the manner as he would a thief that should rob him.

6

He was equally difappointed, and • had not spirit enough to confider that one cafe would be laudable, and the other criminal. Malice, rancour, hatred, vengeance, are what tear the breafts of mean men in fight; but fame, glory, conquefts, defires of op'portunities to pardon and oblige their opposers, are what glow in the minds of the gallant.' The captain ended his difcourfe with a fpecimen of his booklearning; and gave us to understand that he had read a French author on the fubject of juftnefs in point of gallantry. I love, faid Mr. Sentry, a critic who mixes the rules of life with annotations upon writers. My author,' added he, in his difcourfe upon epic poem, takes occafion to fpeak of the fame quality of courage drawn in the two different characters of Turnus and Eneas: he makes courage the chief and greatest ornament of Turnus; but in Eneas there are many others which outfhine it, amongst

nus is therefore all along painted by the poet full of oftentation, his language haughty and vain-glorious, as placing his honour in the manifeftation of his valour; Eneas fpeaks lit

T

IF

VIRG. EN. XII. v. 59.

F we look into the three great heroic poems which have appeared in the world, we may obferve that they are built upon very flight foundations. Homer lived near three hundred years after the Trojan war; and, as the writing of history was not then in ufe among the Greeks, we may very well suppose, that the tradition of Achilles and Ulyffes had brought down but very few particulars to his knowledge; though there is no question but he has wrought into his two poems fuch of their remarkable adventures, as were still talked of among his contemporaries.

The ftory of Æneas on which Virgil founded his poem, was likewife very bare of circumftances, and by that means afforded him an opportunity of embellifhing it with fiction, and giving a full range to his own invention. We find, however, that he has interwoven, in the courfe of his fable, the principal particulars, which were generally believed among the Romans, of Æneas's voyage and fettlement in Italy.

The reader may find an abridgment of the whole ftory as collected out of the ancient hiftorians, and as it was received among the Romans, in Dionyfius Halicarnaffeus.

Since none of the critics have confidered Virgil's fable, with relation to this hiftory of Æneas; it may not perhaps be amifs to examine it in this light, fo far as regards my prefent purpofe. Whoever looks into the abridgment above-mentioned, will find that the character of Æneas is filled with piety to the gods, and a fuperftitious obfervation of prodigies, oracles, and predictions. Virgil has not only preferved this character in the perfon of Æneas,

but has given a place in his poem to thofe particular prophecies which he found recorded of him in history and tradition. The poet took the matters of fact as they came down to him, and circumftanced them after his own manner, to make them appear the more natural, agreeable, or furprising. I believe very many readers have been shocked at that ludicrous prophecy, which one of the Harpies pronounces to the Trojans in the third book, namely, that, before they had built their intended city, they fhould be reduced by hunger to eat their very tables. But when they hear that this was one of the circumftances that had been tranfinitted to the Romans in the hiftory of Æneas, they will think the poet did very well in taking notice of it. The hiftorian above-mentioned acquaints us, a prophetess had foretold Æneas, that he fhould take his voyage weftward, till his companions fhould eat their tables; and that accordingly, upon his landing in Italy, as they were cating their flesh upon cakes of bread for want of other conveniencies, they afterwards fed on the cakes themfelves; upon which one of the company faid merrily We are

eating our tables.' They immediately took the hint, fays the hiftorian, and concluded the prophecy to be fulfilled. As Virgil did not think it proper to omit fo material a particular in the history of Eneas, it may be worth while to confider with how much judgment he has qualified it, and taken off every thing that might have appeared improper for a paflage in an heroic poem. The prophetel's who foretells it, is an hungry Harpy, as the perfon who difcovers it is young Afcanius.

Hews

Heus etiam menfas confumimus, irquit Iulus! EN. VII. V. 116.

See, we devour the plates on which we fed. DRYDEN.

Such an obfervation, which is beautiful in the mouth of a boy, would have been ridiculous from any other of the company. I am apt to think that the changing of the Trojan fleet into Waternymphs, which is the most violent machine in the whole neid, and has given offence to several critics, may be accounted for the fame way. Virgil himfelf, before he begins that relation, premifes, that what he was going to tell appeared incredible, but that it was juftified by tradition. What further confirms me that this change of the fleet was a celebrated circumftance in the history of Encas, is, that Ovid has given a place to the fame metamorphofis in his account of the heathen mythology.

None of the critics I have met with have confidered the fable of the neid in this light, and taken notice how the tradition, on which it was founded, authorifes thofe parts in it which appear moft exceptionable; I hope the length of this reflection will not make it unacceptable to the curious part of my readers.

book, which has more tory in it, and is fuller of incidents, than any other in the whole poem. Satan's traverfing the globe, and till keeping within the Thadow of the night, as fearing to be difcovered by the angel of the fun, who had before detected him, is one of those beautiful imaginations with which he introduces this his fecond feries of adventures. Having examined the nature of every creature, and found out one which was the mott proper for his purpofe, he again returns to Paradise; and to avoid difcovery, finks by night with a river that ran under the garden, and rifes up again through a fountain that flued from it by the tree of life. The poet, who, as we have before taken notice, fpeaks as little as poffible in his own perfon, and, after the example of Homer, fills every part of his work with manners and characters, introduces a foliloquy of this infernal agent, who was thus reftlefs in the deftruction' of man. He is then defcribed as gliding through the garden, under the re. femblance of a mift, in order to find out that creature in which he defigned to tempt our first parents. This defeription has fomething in it very poetical and furprifing.

So faying, through each thicket dank or dry,
Like a black mitt low creeping, he held on
His midnight fearch, where fooneft he might
find

The ferpent: him faft fleeping foon he found
In labyrinth of any a round self-roll`a,
His head the midft, well ftor'd with fubtle
wiles.

lars, Milton has formed one of the most entertaining fables that invention ever produced. He has difpofed of these feveral circumstances among fo many beautiful and natural fictions of his own, that his whole ftory looks only like a comment upon facred writ, or rather feems to be a full and compleat relation of what the other is only an epitome. I have infitted the longer on this confideration, as I look upon the difpofition and contrivance of the fable to be the principal beauty of the ninth

peculiar to that firft feafon of nature. He reprefents the earth, before it was it's incenfe from all parts, and fending curfed, as a great altar, breathing out up a pleafant favour to the noftrils of it's Creator; to which he adds a noble idea of Adam and Eve, as offering their morning worthip, and filling up the univerfal confort of praife and adora

tion.

Now when as facred light began to dawn' In Eden on the humid flow'rs, that breath' Their morning incenfe, when all things that breathe,

From th'earth's great altar fend up filent praife To the Creator, and his noftrils fill

With