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to his dear Friend, Mr. Blount, (dearest except Mr. ́ Gay) the Date of it is October the 21st, 1721.

Dear Sir,

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Our very kind and obliging Manner of enquir ing after me, among the first Concerns of Life at your Refufcitation, fhould have been fooner anfwer'd and acknowledg'd. I fincerely rejoice at your Recovery from an Illness that gave me lefs Pain than it did you, only from my Ignorance of it. I should have else been ferioufly and deeply afflicted, in the Thought of your Danger by a Fever. I think it a fine and a natural Thought, which I lately read in a Letter of Montaigne's, publifh'd by P. Cofle, giving an Account of the laft Words of an intimate Frind of his: " Adieu my Friend! The Pain I feel "will foon be over, but I grieve for that you are to " feel, which is to laft you for Life."

I join with your Family in giving God Thanks for lending us a worthy Man fomewhat longer. The Comforts you receive from their Attendance, put me in mind of what old Fletcher of Saltonne faid one Day to me. Alas, I have nothing to do but to die; I am a poor Individual; no Creature to wish, or to fear, for my Life or Death: 'Tis the only Reafon I have to repent being a fingle Man; now I grow old, I am like a Tree without a Prop, and without young Trees to grow round me, for Company and Defence.

This, we believe, will juftify us in proceeding in our further Difcourfe on Paftoral, intending to continue our Comparison of the Authors under our Confideration, as well as to bring forward some of their greatest Beauties, which every Reader may not have feen in fo good a Light.

Befides that Air of Piety which ought always to accompany the Character of a Shepherd, there is

generally

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generally, by the best Poets, thrown in a little Superftition, making them, for Want of more Knowledge, take for granted the Power of Magick and Witchcraft; this appears in all the fix paftoral Poets about which we are now fpeaking, Guarini too, in the laft Scene of the fecond Act, when Corifca has left her falfe Hair and Head-drefs in the Hands of the Satyr, makes him call out to the Nymphs and Shepherds to come and fee a Miracle, he at first imagining, that by fome Magick, fhe had run away from him and left her Head in his Hands; it is the common Method of all thefe Poets, to give their Rea ders to understand that they themselves had no Belief in Magick, fo that the Satyr is foon undeceiv'd, finding it to be nothing but a drefs'd up Ornament for the Head of that old Coquet, which was defign'd as a gentle Satire upon those Italian Ladies who at that Time wore falfe Hair; but this now is grown fo common as well there as in France, and here in England too, that it is no longer wondered

at.

Taffo, in like Manner introduces Amintas, in his Complaint to Thyrfis, faying, that his hard Lot was prophecy'd to him by Mopfus:

All my hard Fate me Mopfus did foretel,
Who knows each Plant and all their Virtues well;
In Springs the hidden Qualities can trace,
And talk familiar with the feather'd Race.

But Thyrfis (under which Name the Poet figures himself) foon undeceives him, and lets him know, that the pretended Fortune-teller was only an Impoftor, and that what he had told him was not in future Fate, but Words fpoke only to deject and frighten him; he inftances himself, who having Inclination to fee the great City, as well as having fom

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Bufinefs there, Mopfus had advised him not to go near the Court, which he calls the Magazine of idle Sounds, threatning him with abundance of Things that should happen to him, instead of which, he tells "Amintas how he was invited thither, and with what Grace he was receiv'd, and with what Rewards honour'd, contrary to the Prediction of the wicked and falfe Mopfus; on which Grounds he encourages him to pursue his Love, and promifes him Succefs, which happens accordingly.

Mr. Pope, in his third Paftoral, makes Ægon a Shepherd fay, that Pan ask'd him if he was under a Charm of Magick? Which is intimating more than the other Poets, as if there was fuch a Thing in reallity, otherways a God would not have ask❜d such a Queftion. Egon says :

Refound, ye Hills, refound my mournful Lay!
The Shepherds cry, "Thy Flocks are left a Prey".
Ah! What avails it me the Flocks to keep!
Who loft my Heart while I preferv'd my Sheep.
Pan came, and ask'd what Magick caus'd my Smart,
Or what ill Eyes malignant Glances dart.

This is to be confidered, that Pan is but a Sylvan Deity, that is, one of the lower Rank, and the laft two Lines may be taken rather as a Suggeftion, rifing in the Breaft of the Shepherd, than a Suppofition of a real Appearance of Pan, and the next two Lines make it plain, that his laft Determination is, that there is indeed no fuch Thing as Magick:

What Eyes but her's; alas! have Power to move!
And is there Magick but what dwells in Love?

Young as Mr. Pope was when he wrote his Paftorals, we will not fhew fo little Efteem for his Judgment, as to fancy that he subscrib❜d to Magick, Witch

craft

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craft is now pretty well exploded, though in former Years many Perfons luffered Death, it having been pretended they were prov'd guilty of it, but now (for any Law to the contrary) People may bewitch one another as fast as they can.

1

The first Notions of it are from Superftition, that Bane of all Minds, where it prevails; nay, the Delufion run fo high, that many Perfons ufing Means with Intention to hurt or harm other People, if those People came to any Harm, or did not profper, both the Sufferer and the Self-deceiv'd imaginary Witch or Wizard, thought it was the Effect of Charms.

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Mr. Philips differs a little from Mr. Pope, Colinet makes heavy and grievous Complaint of his Unhap piness, and thinks that all Nature confpires against him to make him wretched, to which Thenot replies:

Thenot.

Sure thou in fome ill-chofen Hour wast born,
When blighting Mill-dews fpoil the rifing Corn;
Or when the Moon, by Witchcraft charm'd fore
Thro' fad Eclipfe a various Train of Woes, [shows,
Untimely born, ill Luck betides thee ftill.

Colinet.
And can there, Thenot, be a greater III?
Thenot

Nor Wolf, nor Fox, nor Rot amongst our Sheep; From these the Shepherd's Care his Flock may keep: Againft ill Luck all cunning Forefight fails; Whether we fleep or wake, it nought avails

Colinet.

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Ah me the while! Ah me the lucklefs Day I Ah luckless Lad! the rather might I say.

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Unhappy

Unhappy Hour! when first, in youthful Bud,
I left the fair Sabrina's filver Flood:
Ah filly I! More filly than my Sheep,
Which on thy flow'ry Banks I once did keep.
Sweet are thy Banks! Oh when shall I once more
With longing Eyes review thy flow'ry Shore?
When, in the Crystal of thy Waters, fee
My Face, grown wan thro' Care and Mifery?
When fhall I fee my Hut, the small Abode
Myself had rais'd and cover'd o'er with Sod?
Tho' fmall it be, a mean and humble Cell,
Yet there is room for Peace and me to dwell.

Here all manner of Thoughts of Magick is laid afide, and all is safcribed to Fortune that happens to us. It is Lucklefs Lad! Unhappy Hour! and Lucklefs Day! and not the Force of Charms, that causes the Shepherd's Unreft.

Thus far our Arcadian Poets; and now our other two, who fetch their Thoughts no farther than from their Native Country, Mr. Gay, instead of a Sylvia or Amarillis, has chofe the Parfon's Maid; and for his Witchcraft, that of no higher Sort than studied and practis❜d by Gypfies:

Laft Friday's Eve, when as the Sun was fet,
I, near yon Stile, three fallow Gypfies met :
Upon my Hand they caft a poring Look,
Bid me beware, and thrice their Heads they shook;
They said, that many Croffes I muft prove,
Some in my wordly Gain, but moft in Love.
Next Morn I mifs'd three Hens and our old Cock;
And off the Hedge two Pinners and a Smock.
I bore thefe Loffes with a Chriftian Mind,
And no Mishaps could feel, whilft thou wert kind.
But fince, alafs! I grew my Colin's Scorn,
I've known no Pleasure, Night, or Noon, or Morn.

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