being addicted to magic, is a little uncharitable, ("that he might fear no sort of deity, good or bad,") since in the third verse he plainly testifies his apprehension of a future state, by being solicitous whither his soul was going. As to what you mention of his using gay and ludicrous expressions, I have owned my opinion to be, that the expressions are not so, but that diminutives are as often, in the Latin tongue, used as marks of tenderness and concern.

Anima is no more than my soul; animula has the force of my dear soul. To say virgo bella is not half so endearing as virguncula bellula; and had Augustus only called Horace lepidum hominem, it had amounted to no more than that he thought him a pleasant fellow it was the homunciolum that expressed the love and tenderness that great emperor had for him. And perhaps I should myself be much better pleased, if I were told you called me your little friend, than if you complimented me with the title of a great genius, or an eminent hand, as Jacob does all his authors.

I am your, &c.

LETTER X.

FROM MR STEELE.

December 4, 1712.

THIS is to desire of you that you would please

to make an Ode as of a cheerful dying spirit, that

is to say, the Emperor Adrian's Animula vagula put into two or three stanzas for music. If you comply with this, and send me word so, you will very particularly oblige Your, &c.

I

LETTER XI.

TO MR. STEELE.

Do not send you word I will do, but have already done the thing you desired of me. You have it (as Cowley calls it) just warm from the brain. It came to me the first moment I waked this morning: yet, you will see, it was not so absolutely inspiration, but that I had in my head not only the verses of Adrian, but the fine fragment of Sappho, &c.

THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL.

ODE.
I.

VITAL spark of heavenly flame!
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame;
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying,
Oh the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life.

II.

Hark! they whisper! Angels say,

Sister Spirit, come away!

What is this absorbs me quite,

Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my soul, can this be Death?

I AM more joyed at your return than I should be at that of the sun, so much as I wish for him this melancholy wet season; but it is his fate too, like yours, to be displeasing to owls and obscene animals, who cannot bear his lustre. What puts me in mind of these night-birds was John Dennis, who, I think, you are best revenged upon, as the sun was in the fable upon those bats and beastly birds above-mentioned, only by shining on. I am so far from esteeming it any misfortune, that I congratulate you upon having your share in that, which all the great men and all the good men that ever lived have had their part of, Envy and Calumny. To be uncensured and to be obscure, is the same thing. You may conclude from what I here say, that it was never in my thoughts to have offered you my pen in any direct reply to

such a critic, but only in some little raillery; not in defence of you, but in contempt of him.* But indeed your opinion, that it is entirely to be neglected, would have been my own had it been my own case; but I felt more warmth here than I did when first I saw his book against myself (though indeed in two minutes it made me heartily merry). He has written against every thing the world has approved these many years. I apprehend but one danger from Dennis's disliking our sense, that it may make us think so very well of it, as to become proud and conceited, upon his disapprobation.

I must not here omit to do justice to Mr. Gay, whose zeal in your concern is worthy a friend and honourer of you. He writ to me in the most pressing terms about it, though with that just contempt of the critic that he deserves. I think in these days one honest man is obliged to acquaint another who are his friends; when so many mischievous insects are daily at work to make people of merit suspicious of each other; that they

* This relates to the paper occasioned by Dennis's Remarks upon Cato, called Dr. Norris's Narrative of the Frenzy of John Dennis. Pope.

A mean performance; but dictated by the most generous principle of friendship; and meeting in the person defended, a heart incapable of the like exertion of virtue, was not received with that acknowledgment which such a service deserved.

Warburton.

The reflection cast on Mr. Addison, in this note, by Dr. Warburton, is much too harsh and indefensible.

Warton.

may have the satisfaction of seeing them looked upon no better than themselves.

I am your, &c.

LETTER XIII.

FROM MR. ADDISON.

October 26, 1713.

I

WAS extremely glad to receive a letter from you, but more so upon reading the contents of it. The work* you mention, will, I dare say, very sufficiently recommend itself when your name appears with the proposals: and if you think I can any way contribute to the forwarding of them, you cannot lay a greater obligation upon me than by employing me in such an office. As I have an ambition of having it known that you are my friend, I shall be very proud of showing it by this, or any other instance. I question not but your Translation will enrich our tongue, and do honour to our country; for I conclude of it already from those performances with which you have obliged the public. I would only have you consider how it may most turn to your advantage. Excuse my impertinence in this particular, which proceeds from my zeal for your ease and happiness. The work would cost you a great deal of time, and, unless you undertake it, will, I am afraid, never be executed by any other; at least I Pope.

*Translation of the Iliad.