(though Pope denied the application) was universally thought, and still is, to have been intended for that of James Brydges, First Duke of Chandos, whose princely buildings at Canons, and equally princely style of living, with his chapel, his choir, and Handel for his composer,-rendered the satire applicable to him alone. The prophecy at the conclusion was singularly borne out by the event; and the pedestrian who now visits Edgeware seldom suspects that he is on ground so famous. People in the neighborhood are still said to talk of the "Grand Duke." His locks and hinges were of silver and gold.

CHARACTER OF NARCISSA.

Narcissa's nature, tolerably mild,

To make a wash would hardly stew a child;"
Has e'en been prov'd to grant a lover's prayer,
And paid a tradesman once to make him stare;
Gave alms at Easter, in a Christian trim;
And made a widow happy, for a whim.
Why then declare good nature is her scorn,
When 'tis by that alone she can be borne?
Why pique all mortals, yet affect a name
A fool to pleasure, yet a slave to fame:
Now deep in Taylor and the Book of Martyrs;

Now drinking citron with his Grace and Chartres;
Now conscience chills her, and now passion burns,

And atheism and religion take their turns;

A very Heathen in the carnal part,

Yet still a sad good Christian at her heart.

17 Narcissa's nature, tolerably mild,

To make a wash would hardly stew a child.

This is very ludicrous and outrageous. Can this Narcissa have been intended for Mrs. Oldfield the actress, who is understood, with great probability, to have been the Narcissa spoken of in a passage extracted further on? If so, she does not appear to have deserved the character,—at least not the worst part of it. The widow, whom she is described as making happy "for a whim," bore the most affectionate testimony to her generous

qualities; and she gave a pension to Savage. See her "Life," by Maynwaring; which, though a catchpenny publication, easily shows what we are to believe in it, and what not.

CHARACTER OF CHLOE.

"Yet Chloe, sure, was form'd without a spot.”—
Nature in her then err'd not, but forgot.
"With every pleasing, every prudent part,
Say, what can Chloe want?"-She wants a heart.
She speaks, behaves, and acts just as she ought;
But never, never reach'd one generous thought.
Virtue she finds too painful an endeavor—
Content to dwell in decencies for ever
So very reasonable, so unmov'd,

As never yet to love or to be lov'd.

She, while her lover pants upon her breast,
Can mark the figures on an Indian chest ;
And when she sees her friend in deep despair,
Observes how much a chintz exceeds mohair.
Forbid it, heaven! a favor or a debt

She e'er should cancel-but she may forget.
Safe is your secret still in Chloe's ear;
But none of Chloe's shall you ever hear.
Of all her dears she never slandered one,
But cares not if a thousand are undone.
Would Chloe know if you're alive or dead?
She bids her footman put it in her head.
Chloe is prudent-(would you too be wise?)

Then never break your heart when Chloe dies.

18

18 Yet Chloe, sure, was formed without a spot.―Chloe is thought to have been Lady Suffolk, the supposed mistress of George the Second. She had offended Pope by not doing something for Swift, which, according to the Dean and his friends, she had led him to believe she would. But Swift was full of fancies; and Lady Suffolk, by consent of all that were in habits of intimacy with her, was a most amiable as well as even-tempered woman.

THE RULING PASSION.

In this one passion man can strength enjoy,
As fits give vigor just when they destroy.
Time, that on all things lays his lenient hand,
Yet tames not this; it sticks to our last sand.
Consistent in our follies and our sins,
Here honest nature ends as she begins.

Old politicians chew on wisdom past,
And totter on in business to the last;
As weak, as earnest, and as gravely out,
As sober Lanesb'row dancing in the gout.
Behold a reverend sire, whom want of grace
Has made the father of a nameless race,
Shov'd from the wall, perhaps, or rudely press'd
By his own son, that passes by unbless'd;
Still to his wench he crawls on knocking knees,
And envies every sparrow that he sees.

A salmon's belly, Helluo, was thy fate;
The doctor call'd, declares all help too late:
"Mercy!" cries Helluo, "mercy on my soul !
Is there no help ?-alas!—then bring the jowl."
The frugal crone, whom praying priests attend,
Still strives to save the hallow'd taper's end,
Collects her breath, as ebbing life retires,
For one puff more, and in that puff expires.
"Odious! in woollen! 'twould a saint provoke"
(Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke),
"No, let a charming chintz, and Brussels lace
Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face:
One would not, sure, be frightful when one's dead-
And, Betty, give this cheek a little red."10

The courtier smooth, who forty years had shin'd
An humble servant to all human kind,

Just brought out this, when scarce his tongue could stir :
"If-where I'm going-I could serve you, sir?”

"I give and I devise" (old Euclio said,

And sigh'd)" my lands and tenements to Ned."
"Your money, sir?"

66

My money, sir! what, all?

Why, if I must―(then wept)—I give it Paul."

"The manor, sir?" "The manor! hold!" he cried;
"Not that, I cannot part with that "-and died.

19 And, Betty, give this cheek a little red.-The "little red

is a

poetical addition; but it really appears, from the "Life" above mentioned, that Mrs. Oldfield was handsomely dressed in her coffin, by her own direction. The charmer of the stage could not bear to fancy herself in mortal attire.

SWIFT.

BORN, 1667-DIED, 1745.

FOR the qualities of sheer wit and humor, Swift had no superior, ancient or modern. He had not the poetry of Aristophanes, or the animal spirits of Rabelais; he was not so incessantly witty as Butler; nor did he possess the delicacy of Addison, or the good nature of Steele or Fielding, or the pathos and depth of Sterne; but his wit was perfect, as such; a sheer meeting of the extremes of difference and likeness; and his knowledge of character was unbounded. He knew the humor of great and small, from the king down to the cook-maid. Unfortunately, he was not a healthy man; his entrance into the church put him into a false position; mysterious circumstances in his personal history conspired with worldly disappointment to aggravate it; and that hypochondriacal insight into things, which might have taught him a doubt of his conclusions and the wisdom of patience, ended in making him the victim of a diseased blood and angry passions. Probably there was something morbid even in his excessive coarseness. of his contemporaries were coarse, but not so outrageously as he. When Swift, however, was at his best, who was so lively, so entertaining, so original? He has been said to be indebted to this and that classic, and this and that Frenchman ;-to Lucian, to Rabelais, and to Cyrano de Bergerac; but though he was acquainted with all these writers, their thoughts had been evidently thought by himself; their quaint fancies of things had passed through his own mind; and they ended in results quite masterly, and his own. A great fanciful wit like his wanted no helps to

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