trive forms of lamentations for monarchs in distress, rank all the classes of mankind in a state of poverty who make no approaches to the dignity of crowns. To be poor in the epic language is only not to command the wealth of nations, nor to have fleets and armies in pay. Yet, what can the votary be justly said to have lost of his present happiness? If he resides in a convent, he converses only with men whose condition is the same with his own; he has, from the munificence of the founder, all the necessaries of life, and is safe from that destitution, which Hooker declares to be such an impediment to virtue, as, till it be removed, suffereth not the mind of man to admit any other care. All temptations to envy and competition are shut out from his retreat; he is not pained with the sight of unattainable dignity, nor insulted with the bluster of insolence, or the smile of forced familiarity. If he wanders abroad, the sanctity of his character amply compensates all other distinctions; he is seldom seen but with reverence, nor heard but with submission. Vanity has perhaps contributed to this impropriety of style. He that wishes to become a philosopher at a cheap rate, easily gratifies his ambition by submitting to poverty when he does not feel it, and by boasting his contempt of riches when he has already more than he enjoys. He who would show the extent of his views, and grandeur of his conceptions, or discover his acquaintance with splendour and magnificence, may talk, like Cowley, of an humble station and quiet obscurity, of the paucity of nature's wants, and the inconveniences of superfluity, and at last, It has been remarked, that death, though often like him, limit his desires to five hundred pounds defied in the field, seldom fails to terrify when it a year; a fortune, indeed, not exuberant, when approaches the bed of sickness in its natural horwe compare it with the expenses of pride and ror; so poverty may easily be endured while asluxury, but to which it little becomes a philoso-sociated with dignity and reputation, but will alpher to affix the name of poverty, since no man ways be shunned and dreaded when it is accomcan, with any propriety, be termed poor, who panied with ignominy and contempt. does not see the greater part of mankind richer than himself. Cum volet illa dies, quæ nil nisi corporis hujus Come, soon or late, death's undetermined day, As little is the general condition of human life No. 203.] TUESDAY, FEB. 25, 1752. understood by the panegyrists and historians, who amuse us with accounts of the poverty of heroes and sages. Riches are of no value in themselves, their use is discovered only in that which they procure. They are not coveted, unless by narrow understandings, which confound the means with the end, but for the sake of power, influence, and esteem; or, by some of less elevated and refined sentiments, as necessary to sensual enjoyment. The pleasures of luxury many have, without uncommon virtue, been able to despise, even when affluence and idleness have concurred to tempt them; and therefore he who feels nothing from indigence but the want of gratifications which he could not in any other condition make consistent with innocence, has given no proof of eminent patience. Esteem and influence every man desires, but they are equally pleasing, and equally valuable, by whatever means they are obtained; and whoever has found the art of securing them without the help of money, ought, in reality, to be accounted rich, since he has all that riches can purchase to a wise man. Cincinnatus, though he lived upon a few acres cultivated by his own hand, was sufficiently removed from all the evils generally comprehended under the name of poverty, when his reputation was such, that the voice of his country called him from his farm to take absolute command into his hand; nor was Diogenes much mortified by his residence in a tub, where he was honoured with the visit of Alexander the Great. The same fallacy has conciliated veneration to the religious orders. When we behold a man abdicating the hope of terrestrial possessions, and precluding himself, by an irrevocable vow, from the pursuit and acquisition of all that his fellow-beings consider as worthy of wishes and endeavours, we are immediately struck with the purity, abstraction, and firmness of his mind, and regard him as wholly employed in securing the interests of futurity, and devoid of any other care than to gain at whatever price the surest passage eternal rest. CVID. WELSTED. Ir seems to be the fate of man to seek all his con solations in futurity. The time present is seldom able to fill desire or imagination with immediate enjoyment, and we are forced to supply its deficiencies by recollection or anticipation. Every one has so often detected the fallaciousness of hope, and the inconvenience of teaching himself to expect what a thousand accidents may preclude, that, when time has abated the confi dence with which youth rushes out to take pos session of the world, we endeavour, or wish, to find entertainment in the review of life, and to repose upon real facts and certain experience. This is perhaps one reason, among many, why age delights in narratives. But so full is the world of calamity, that every source of pleasure is polluted, and every retirement of tranquillity disturbed. When time has supplied us with events sufficient to employ our thoughts, it has mingled them with so many dis asters, that we shrink from their remembrance, dread their intrusion upon our minds, and fly from them as from enemies that pursue us with torture. No man past the middle point of life can sit down to feast upon the pleasures of youth without finding the banquet embittered by the cup of sorrow; he may revive lucky accidents and pleasing extravagances; many days of harmless frolic, or nights of honest festivity, will perhaps recur; or, if he has been engaged in scenes of action and acquainted with affairs of difficulty and vicissitudes of fortune, he may enjoy the nobler pleasure of looking back upon distress firmly supported, dangers resolutely encountered, and opposition artfully defeated. Eneas properly comforts his companions, when, after the horrors of a storm, they have landed on an unknown and desolate country, with the hope that their miseries will be at some distant time recounted with delight. There are few higher gratifications than that of reflection on surmounted evils, when they were not incurred nor protracted by our fault, and neither reproach us with cowardice nor guilt. But this felicity is almost always abated by the reflection, that they with whom we should be most pleased to share it are now in the grave. A few years make such havoc in human generations, that we soon see ourselves deprived of those with whom we entered the world, and whom the participation of pleasures or fatigues had endeared to our remembrance. The man of enterprise recounts his adventures and expedients, but is forced at the close of the relation to pay a sigh to the names of those that contributed to his success; he that passes his life among the gayer part of mankind, has his remembrance stored with remarks and repartees of wits, whose sprightliness and merriment are now lost in perpetual silence; the trader, whose industry has supplied the want of inheritance, repines in solitary plenty at the absence of companions with whom he had planned out amusements for his latter years; and the scholar, whose merit, after a long series of efforts, raises him from obscurity, looks round in vain from his exaltation for his old friends or enemies, whose applause or mortification would heighten his triumph. Among Martial's requisites to happiness is, Res non parta labore, sed relicta, An estate not gained by industry, but left by inheritance. It is necessary to the completion of every good, that it be timely obtained for whatever comes at the close of life will come too late to give much delight. Yet all human happiness has its defects; of what we do not gain for ourselves we have only a faint and imperfect fruition, because we cannot compare the difference between want and possession, or at least can derive from it no conviction of our own abilities, nor any increase of self-esteem. What we acquire by bravery or science, by mental or corporal diligence; comes at last when we cannot communicate, and therefore cannot enjoy it. Thus every period of life is obliged to borrow its happiness from the time to come. In youth we have nothing past to entertain us, and in age we derive little from retrospect but hopeless sorrow. Yet the future likewise has its limits, which the imagination dreads to approach, but which we see to be not far distant. The loss of our friends and companions impresses hourly upon us the necessity of our own departure; we know that the schemes of man are quickly at an end, that we must soon lie down in the grave with the forgotten multitudes of former ages, and yield our place to others, who, like us, shall be driven a while, by hope or fear, about the surface of the earth, and then like us be lost in the shades of death. reputation, the reverence of distant nations, and the gratitude of unprejudiced posterity. They whose souls are so chained down to coffers and tenements, that they cannot conceive a state in which they shall look upon them with less solicitude, are seldom attentive or flexible to arguments; but the votaries of fame are capable of reflection, and therefore may be called to reconsider the probability of their expectations. Whether to be remembered in remote times be worthy of a wise man's wish, has not yet been satisfactorily decided; and indeed, to be long remembered, can happen to so small a number, that the bulk of mankind has very little interest in the question. There is never room in the world for more than a certain quantity or measure of renown. The necessary business of life, the immediate pleasures or pains of every condi tion, leave us not leisure beyond a fixed portion for contemplations which do not forcibly influ ence our present welfare. When this vacuity is filled, no characters can be admitted into the circulation of fame, but by occupying the place of some that must be thrust into oblivion. The eye of the mind, like that of the body, can only extend its view to new objects, by losing sight of those which are now before it. Reputation is therefore a meteor, which blazes awhile and disappears for ever; and, if we ex cept a few transcendent and invincible names, which no revolutions of opinion or length of time is able to suppress; all those that engage our thoughts, or diversify our conversation, are every moment hasting to obscurity, as new favourites are adopted by fashion. It is not therefore from this world that any ray of comfort can proceed, to cheer the gloom of the last hour. But futurity has still its prospects; there is yet happiness in reserve, which, if we transfer our attention to it, will support us in the pains of disease, and the languor of decay. This happiness we may expect with confidence, because it is out of the power of chance, and may be attained by all that sincerely desire and earnestly pursue it. On this therefore every mind ought finally to rest. Hope is the chief blessing of man, and that hope only is rational, of which we are certain that it cannot deceive us. SEGED, lord of Ethiopia, to the inhabitants of the world: To the sons of presumption, humility and fear; and to the daughters of sorrow, content and acquiesence. Beyond this termination of our material existence we are therefore obliged to extend our hopes; and almost every man indulges his imagination Thus, in the twenty-seventh year of his reign, with something, which is not to happen till he spoke Seged, the monarch of forty nations, the has changed his manner of being: some amuse distributor of the waters of the Nile: "At length, themselves with entails and settlements, provide Seged, thy toils are at an end; thou hast recon for the perpetuation of families and honours, or ciled disaffection, thou hast suppressed rebellion, contrive to obviate the dissipation of the fortunes thou hast pacified the jealousies of thy courtiers, which it has been their business to accumulate; thou hast chased war from thy confines, and others, more refined or exalted, congratulate erected fortresses in the lands of thy enemies. their own hearts upon the future extent of their | All who have offended thee tremble in thy pre ness. He had all the artists of delight before him, but knew not whom to call, since he could not enjoy one but by delaying the performance of another. He chose and rejected, he resolved and changed his resolution, till his faculties were harassed, and his thoughts confused: then returned to the apartment where his presence was expected, with languid eyes and clouded countenance, and spread the infection of uneasiness over the whole assembly. He observed their depression, and was offended; for he found his vexation increased by those whom he expected to dissipate and relieve it. He retired again to his private chamber, and sought for consolation in his own mind; one thought flowed in upon another; a long succession of images seized his attention; the moments crept imperceptibly away through the gloom of pensiveness, till, having recovered his tranquillity, he lifted up his head, and saw the lake brightened by the setting sun. Such," said Seged, sighing, "is the longest day of human existence: before we have learned to use it, we find it at an end." sence, and wherever thy voice is heard it is obey- He immediately entered his chamber, to con ed. Thy throne is surrounded by armies, nu-sider where he should begin his circle of happimerous as the locusts of the summer, and resistless as the blasts of pestilence. Thy magazines are stored with ammunition, thy treasuries overflow with the tribute of conquered kingdoms. Plenty waves upon thy fields, and opulence glitters in thy cities. Thy nod is as the earthquake that shakes the mountains, and thy smile as the dawn of the vernal day. In thy hand is the strength of thousands, and thy health is the health of millions. Thy palace is gladdened by the song of praise, and thy path perfumed by the breath of benediction. Thy subjects gaze upon thy greatness, and think of danger or misery no more. Why, Seged, wilt not thou partake the blessings thou bestowest? Why shouldst thou only forbear to rejoice in this general felicity? Why should thy face be clouded with anxiety, when the meanest of those who call thee sovereign gives the day to festivity, and the night to peace? At length, Seged, reflect and be wise. What is the gift of conquest but safety? Why are riches collected but to purchase happiness ?" Seged then ordered the house of pleasure, built in an island of the lake of Dambea, to be The regret which he felt for the loss of so prepared for his reception. "I will retire," says great a part of his first day, took from him all he, "for ten days from tumult and care, from disposition to enjoy the evening; and after havcounsels and decrees. Long quiet is not the loting endeavoured, for the sake of his attendants, of the governors of nations, but a cessation of ten days cannot be denied me. This short interval of happiness may surely be secured from the interruption of fear or perplexity, sorrow or disappointment. I will exclude all trouble from my abode, and remove from my thoughts whatever may confuse the harmony of the concert, or abate the sweetness of the banquet. I will fill the whole capacity of my soul with enjoyment, and try what it is to live without a wish unsatisfied." In a few days the orders were performed, and Seged hasted to the palace of Dambea, which stood in an island cultivated only for pleasure, planted with every flower that spreads its colours to the sun, and every shrub that sheds fragrance in the air. In one part of this extensive garden, were open walks for excursions in the morning; in another, thick groves, and silent arbours, and bubbling fountains, for repose at noon. All that could solace the sense, or flatter the fancy, all that industry could extort from nature, or wealth furnish to art, all that conquest could seize, or beneficence attract, was collected together, and every perception of delight was excited and gratified. sure. 66 to force an air of gayety, and excite that mirth which he could not share, he resolved to defer his hopes to the next morning, and lay down to partake with the slaves of labour and poverty the blessing of sleep. He rose early the second morning, and resolved now to be happy. He therefore fixed upon the gate of the palace an edict, importing, that whoever, during nine days, should appear in the presence of the king with dejected countenance, or utter any expression of discontent or sorrow, should be driven for ever from the palace of Dambea. This edict was immediately made known in every chamber of the court and bower of the gardens. Mirth was frighted away; and they who were before dancing in the lawns, or sing ing in the shades, were at once engaged in the care of regulating their looks, that Seged might find his will punctually obeyed, and see none among them liable to banishment. 3 Seged now met every face settled in a smile. but a smile that betrayed solicitude, timidity, and constraint. He accosted his favourites with familiarity and softness; but they durst not speak without premeditation, lest they should Into this delicious region Seged summoned be convicted of discontent or sorrow. He proall the persons of his court who seemed emi-posed diversions, to which no objection was nently qualified to receive or communicate plea- made, because objection would have implied unHis call was readily obeyed: the young, easiness; but they were regarded with indifferthe fair, the vivacious, and the witty, were all ence by the courtiers, who had no other desire in haste to be sated with felicity. They sailed than to signalize themselves by clamorous exultjocund over the lake, which seemed to smooth ation. He offered various topics of conversaits surface before them; their passage was tion; but obtained only forced jests and labocheered with music, and their hearts dilated with rious laughter; and, after many attempts to ani expectation. mate his train to confidence and alacrity, was obliged to confess to himself the impotence of command, and resign another day to grief and disappointment. . Seged, landing here with his band of pleasure, determined from that hour to break off all acquaintance with discontent, to give his heart for ten days to ease and jollity, and then fall back to the common state of man, and suffer his life to be diversified, as before, with joy and He at last relieved his companions from their terrors, and shut himself up in his chamber to ascertain, by different measures, the felicity of the succeeding days. At length he threw him self on tl e bed, and closed his eyes, but imagined, | stay, or free their hearts from the terror which in his sleep, that his palace and gardens were had seized upon them. The princesses inclosed overwhelmed by an inundation, and waked with themselves in the palace, and could yet scarcely all the terrors of a man struggling in the water. believe themselves in safety. Every attention He composed himself again to rest, but was af- was fixed upon the late danger and escape, and frighted by an imaginary irruption into his no mind was any longer at leisure for gay sallies kingdom; and striving, as is usual in dreams, or careless prattle. without ability to move, fancied himself betrayed to his enemies, and again started up with horror and indignation. Seged had now no other employment than to contemplate the innumerable casualties which lie in ambush on every side to intercept the happiness of man, and break in upon the hour of delight and tranquillity. He had, however, the consolation of thinking, that he had not been now disappointed by his own fault, and that the accident which had blasted the hopes of the day might easily be prevented by future caution. It was now day, and fear was so strongly impressed on his mind, that he could sleep no more. He rose; but his thoughts were filled with the deluge and invasion, nor was he able to disengage his attention, or mingle with vacancy and ease in any amusement. At length his perturbation gave way to reason, and he resolved no That he might provide for the pleasure of the longer to be harassed by visionary miseries; but next morning, he resolved to repeal his penal before this resolution could be completed, half edict, since he had already found that discontent the day had elapsed. He felt a new conviction and melancholy were not to be frighted away by of the uncertainty of human schemes, and could the threats of authority, and that pleasure would not forbear to bewail the weakness of that being, only reside where she was exempted from conwhose quiet was to be interrupted by vapours of trol. He therefore invited all the companions the fancy. Having been first disturbed by a of his retreat to unbounded pleasantry, by prodream, he afterwards grieved that a dream could posing prizes for those who should, on the fol disturb him. He at last discovered that his ter-lowing day, distinguish themselves by any rors and grief were equally vain, and that to lose the present in lamenting the past was voluntarily to protract a melancholy vision. The third day was now declining, and Seged again resolved to be happy on the morrow. festive performances; the tables of the anti chamber were covered with gold and pearls, and robes and garlands decreed the rewards of those who could refine elegance or heighten pleasure. At this display of riches every eye immediately sparkled, and every tongue was busied in cele brating the bounty and magnificence of the emperor. But when Seged entered, in hopes of uncommon entertainment from universal emulation, he found that any passion too strongly agitated puts an end to that tranquillity which is necessary to mirth, and that the mind that is to be moved by the gentle ventilations of gayety must be first smoothed by a total calm. Whatever we ardently wish to gain, we must, in the same degree, be afraid to lose, and fear and pleasure cannot dwell together. On the fourth morning Seged rose early, refreshed with sleep, vigorous with health, and eager with expectation. He entered the garden, All was now care and solicitude. Nothing attended by the princess and ladies of his court, was done or spoken, but with so visible an enand, seeing nothing about but airy cheerfulness, deavour at perfection, as always failed to debegan to say to his heart, "This day shall be a light, though it sometimes forced admiration: day of pleasure." The sun played upon the and Seged could not but observe with sorrow, water, the birds warbled in the groves, and the that his prizes had more influence than himself. gales quivered among the branches. He roved As the evening approached, the contest grew from walk to walk as chance directed him, and more earnest, and those who were forced to sometimes listened to the songs, sometimes allow themselves excelled began to discover the mingled with the dancers, sometimes let loose malignity of defeat, first by angry glances, and his imagination in flights of merriment, and at last by contemptuous murmurs. Seged likesometimes uttered grave reflections and senten-wise shared the anxiety of the day; for considertious maxims, and feasted on the admiration with which they were received. Thus the day rolled on, without any accident of vexation, or intrusion of melancholy thoughts. All that beheld him caught gladness from his ooks, and the sight of happiness conferred by himself filled his heart with satisfaction: but having passed three hours in this harmless luxury, he was alarmed on a sudden by a universal scream among the women, and, turning back, saw the whole assembly flying in confusion. A young crocodile had risen out of the lake, and was ranging the garden in wantonness or hunger. Seged beheld him with indignation, as a disturber of his felicity, and chased him back into the lake, but could not persuade his retinue to ing himself as obliged to distribute with exact justice the prizes which had been so zealously sought, he durst never remit his attention, but pas.ed his time upon the rack of doubt, in balanc. 1g different kinds of merit, and adjusting the claims of all the competitors. At last, knowing that no exactness could satisfy those whose hopes he should disappoint, and thinking that, on a day set apart for happiness, it would be cruel to oppress any heart with sorrow, he declared that all had pleased him alike, and dismissed all with presents of equal value. Seged soon saw that his caution had not been able to avoid offence. They who had believed themselves secure of the highest prizes, were not pleased to be levelled with the crowd; and though, by the liberality of the king, they received more than his promise had entitled them to expect, they departed unsatisfied, because they were honoured with no distinction, and wanted an opportunity to triumph in the mortification of their opponents. "Behold here," said Seged, "the condition of him who places his happiness in the happiness of others." He then retired to meditate, and, while the courtiers were repining at his distributions, saw the fifth sun go down in discontent. The next dawn renewed his resolution to be happy. But having learned how little he could effect by settled schemes or preparatory measures, he thought it best to give up one day entirely to chance, and left every one to please and be pleased his own way. This relaxation of regularity diffused a general complacence through the whole court, and the emperor imagined that he had at last found the secret of obtaining an interval of felicity. But as he was roving in this careless assembly with equal carelessness, he overheard one of his courtiers in a close arbour murmuring alone: 'What merit has Seged above us, that we should thus fear and obey him? a man whom, whatever he may have formerly performed, his luxury now shows to have the same weakness with ourselves!" This charge affected him the more, as it was uttered by one whom he had always observed among the most abject of his flatterers. At first his indignation prompted him to severity; but reflecting, that what was spoken without intention to be heard was to be considered as only thought, and was, perhaps, but the sudden burst of casual and temporary vexation, he invented some decent pretence to send him away, that his retreat might not be tainted with the breath of envy; and after the struggle of deliberation was past, and all desire of revenge utterly suppressed, passed the evening not only with tranquillity, but triumph, though none but himself was conscious of the victory. The remembrance of this clemency cheered the beginning of the seventh day, and nothing happened to disturb the pleasure of Seged, till, looking on the tree that shaded him, he recollected that under a tree of the same kind he had passed the night after his defeat in the kingdom of Goiama. The reflection on his loss, his disnonour, and the miseries which his subjects suffered from the invader, filled him with sadness. At last he shook off the weight of sorrow, and began to solace himself with his usual pleasure; when his tranquillity was again disturbed by jealousies which the late contest for the prizes nad produced, and which, having in vain tried to pacify them by persuasion, he was forced to silence by command. On the eighth morning Seged was awakened early by an unusual hurry in the apartments, and, inquiring the cause, was told that the princess Balkis was seized with sickness. He rose, and, calling the physicians, found that they had little hope of her recovery. Here was an end of jollity; all his thoughts were now upon his daughter, whose eyes he closed on the tenth day. JUV. -Propositi nondum pudet, atque eadem est mens, Ut bona summa putes, aliena vivere quadra. But harden'd by affronts, and still the same, Lost to all sense of honour and of fame, Thou yet canst love to haunt the great man's board, And think no supper good but with a lord. BOWLES. WHEN Diogenes was once asked, what kind of wine he liked best, he answered, "That which is drunk at the cost of others." Though the character of Diogenes has never excited any general zeal, of imitation, there are many who resemble him in his taste of wine; many who are frugal, though not abstemious; whose appetites, though too powerful for reason, are kept under restraint by avarice; and to whom all delicacies lose their flavour, when they cannot be obtained but at their own ex pense. Nothing produces more singularity of man ners, and inconstancy of life, than the conflict of opposite vices in the same mind. He that uniformly pursues any purpose, whether good or bad, has a settled principle of action; and, as he may always find associates who are travelling the same way, is countenanced by example, and sheltered in the multitude; but a man actuated at once by different desires must move in a di rection peculiar to himself, and suffer that re proach which we are naturally inclined to bestow on those who deviate from the rest of the world, even without inquiring whether they are worse or better. Yet this conflict of desires sometimes produces wonderful efforts. To riot in far-fetched dishes, or surfeit with unexhausted variety, and yet practise the most rigid economy, is surely an art which may justly draw the eyes of mankind upon them whose industry or judgment has enabled them to attain it. To him, indeed, who is content to break open the chests, or mortgage the manors of his ancestors, that he may hire the ministers of excess at the highest price, glut tony is an easy science; yet we often hear the votaries of luxury boasting of the elegance which they owe to the taste of others; relating with rapture the succession of dishes with which their cooks and caterers supply them; and expecting their share of praise with the discoverers of arts, and the civilizers of nations. But to shorten the way to convivial happiness, by eating without cost, is a secret hitherto in few hands, but which certainly deserves the curiosity of those whose principal employment is their dinner, and who see the sun rise with no other hope than that they shall fill their bellies before it sets. Of them that have within my knowledge attempted this scheme of happiness, the greater part have been immediately obliged to desist; and some, whom their first attempts flattered with success, were reduced by degrees to a few tables, from which they were at last chased to Such were the days which Seged of Ehtiopia make way for others; and, having long habitu 'ad appropriated to a short respiration from theated themselves to superfluous plenty, growled |