See, Winter comes to rule the varied year, Be these my theme These that exalt the soul to solemn thought, And heavenly musing. Welcome, kindred glooms! Pleased have I wandered through your rough domain; 4. THE NEW YEAR.-Willis. Fleetly has passed the year. The seasons came When the cool wind came freshly from the hills; Had faded from its glory, we have sat By the good fires of Winter, and rejoiced "God hath been very good." "Tis He whose hand POPE TO ARBUTHNOT. 435 CCVI. POPE'S EPISTLE TO DOCTOR ARBUTHNOT. When Pope had reached the meridian of his fame, he was beset with applications from numerous writers (who had mistaken the desire for the ability to write) to read and revise their compositions, and to use his influence in having them published. In this poetical epistle to his friend and physician, he humorously describes his annoyances; and expresses his fears that Bedlam (the madhouse) or Parnassus has sent forth the troop of poetasters and scribblers who lie in wait for him. 1. "SHUT, shut the door, good John!" fatigued, I said; All Bedlam or Parnassus EI is let out: Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand, They rave, recite, and madden round the land. What walls can guard me, or what shades can hide? They stop the chariot, and they board the barge. Even Sunday shines no Sabbath-day to me; 2. Is there a parson much be-mused in beer, ΕΙ A maudlin E poetess, a rhyming peer, A clerk, fore-doomed his father's soul to cross, Is there 166 who, locked from ink and paper, scrawls 3. Friend to my life, which did not you prolong, If foes, they write; if friends, they read me dead. With honest anguish and an aching head, 66 Keep your piece nine years." * Pope's villa on the Thames. 4. "Nine years!" cries he, who, high in Drury Lane, 66 My friendship, and a prologue, and ten pound.". Pitholeon libelled me.— "But here's a letter 5. Bless me! a packet. -" "Tis a stranger sues, If I dislike it, "Furies, death and rage;" Fired that the house rejects him, "'Sdeath, I'll print it, * All my demurs but double his attacks; At last he whispers, "Do, and we go snacks." Glad of a quarrel, straight I clap the door, 66 'Sir, let me see your works and you no more!” CCVII.-THE CHARIOT RACE- DEATH OF ORESTES. 1. THEY took their stand where the appointed judges Rang out the brazen trump! Away they bound, 2. O-rěs'tēs still, Aye,t as he swept around the perilous pillar, * A publisher in Pope's day. † Pronounced à; meaning always, even. ADVICE TO AN AFFECTED SPEAKER. The left rein curbed - that on the dexter hand Dashed their wild fronts: then order changed to ruin: Was, sea-like, strewn with wrecks; the Athenian saw, 3. Behind, Orestes, hitherto the last, Had yet kept back his coursers for the close; they are side by side; Now one -now the other - by a length the victor. The courses all are past, the wheels erect All safe when, as the hurrying coursers round 4. Loud from that mighty multitude arose A shriek a shout! But yesterday such deeds Released and no man, not his nearest friends, 437 SOPHOCLES, TRANSLATED BY SIR E. B. LYTTON. CCVIII. - ADVICE TO AN AFFECTED SPEAKER. 1. WHAT do you say? What? I really do not understand you. Be so good as to explain yourself again. Upon my word, I do not! -O! now I know: you mean to tell me it is a cold day. Why did you not say at once, "It is cold to-day"? If you wish to inform me it rains or snows, pray say, "It rains," "? "It snows;" or, if you think I look well, and you choose to compliment me, say, "I think you look well.". "But," you answer, "that is so common and so plain, and what every body -- can say.”—Well, and what if every body can? Is it so great a misfortune to be understood when one speaks, and to speak like the rest of the world? 2. I will tell you what, my friend,-you do not suspect it, and I shall astonish you,- but you, and those like you, want common sense! Nay, this is not all; it is not only in the direction of your wants that you are in fault, but of your superfluities; you have too much conceit; you possess an opinion that you have more sense than others. That is the source of all your pompous nothings, your cloudy sentences, and your big words without a meaning. Before you accost a person, or enter a room, let me pull you by the sleeve and whisper in your ear, · Do not try to show off your sense: have none at all; that is your cue. Use plain language, if you can; just such as you find others use, who, in your idea, have no understanding; and then, perhaps, you will get credit for having some." 66 LA BRUYERE. CCIX.-LAMENT OVER LOST OPPORTUNITIES. 1. O FOR the days and years that are gone by and perished from me, as water spilt on the sea-sand, uselessly and irretrievably! "Where is the fable of my former life?" Alas! the brilliancy of my day was spent utterly in its dawning. Feeble, and abortive, and fleeting, has been the time that I have passed; but other elements than these were within it, and had I but nurtured them, to me that foolish time had been the parent of a blissful eternity. But occasions are past, the hour of their reckoning is nigh at hand, even now my twilight is coming on, and my hopes are darkening into regrets. 2. Could I once again but so much as touch the hem of "the mantling train of far departed years," surely it should be my salvation. But time, as it speeds on, gives us the pass but glancingly, like the rush of a carriage on a railway, or a rocket into the air; we take no note of it while within our reach, and not till it is far away in the distance can we settle our sight steadily upon it, and estimate it duly. Days of my youth, it is even so,- -ye were sent to me on an angelic mission, your bosoms overflowing with flowers, and fruit, and all things, whatever there be, of use and loveliness; these would ye have emptied into my hands, but I would not, and so it was your law to leave me, taking with ye no token of my thankful acceptance! 3. Even now, methinks, I see ye through the far air "gliding me-te'orous sinking into the dimness of distance, yet ever and |