nutes; in a word, as filently and peacefully as he lived.

Sic mihi contingat vivere, ficque mori !

I am not in the humour to say gay things, nor in -the affectation of avoiding them. I can't pretend to entertain either Mr. Pulteney or you, as you have done both my Lord Burlington and me, by your letter to Mr. Lowndes*. I am only forry you have no greater quarrel to Mr. Lowndes, and with you paid fome hundreds a year to the land-tax. That gentleman is lately become an inoffenfive person to me too; fo that we may join heartily in our addresses to him, and (like true patriots) rejoice in all that good done to the nation and government, to which we contribute nothing ourselves.

I fhould not forget to acknowledge your letter fent from Aix; you told me then that writing was not good with the waters, and, I find fince, you are of my opinion, that 'tis as bad without the waters. But, I fancy, it is not writing but thinking, that is fo bad with the waters; and then you may write without any manner of prejudice, if you writ like our brother Poets of these days.

The Duchefs, Lord Warwick, Lord Stanhope, Mrs. Bellenden, Mrs. Lepell, and I can't tell who elfe, had your letters: Dr. Arbuthnot and I expect to be treated like Friends. I would fend my fervices to Mr. Pulteney, but that he is out of favour at court; and make fome compliment to Mrs. Pulteney, if the were not a Whig. My Lord Burlington tells me fhe has much out-fhin'd all the French ladies, as fhe did the English before: I am forry for it, because it will be detrimental to our holy reli

* A Poem intituled, To my ingenious and worthy friend W. Lowndes, Efq. Author of that celebrated treatife in Folio, call'd the LAND-TAX BILL. 5

gion,

gion, if heretical women should eclipfe thofe Nuns and orthodox Beauties, in whofe eyes alone lie all the hopes we can have, of gaining such fine gentlemen as you to our church.

Your, &c.

I wish you joy of the birth of the young prince, because he is the only prince we have, from whom you have had no expectations and no difappoint

ments.

TH

LETTER VI.

From Mr. GAY to Mr. F.

Stanton Harcourt, Aug. 9, 1718.

HE only news that you can expect to have from me here, is news from heaven, for I am quite out of the world, and there is scarce any thing can reach me except the noise of thunder, which undoubtedly you have heard too. We have read in old authors of high towers levell'd by it to the ground, while the humble valleys have escap'd: the only thing that is proof against it is the laurel, which, however, I take to be no great fecurity to the brains of modern authors. But to let you fee

that the contrary to this often happens, I must acquaint you, that the highest and most extravagant heap of towers in the univerfe, which is in this neighbourhood, ftands ftill undefaced, while a cock of barley in our next field has been confumed to alhes. Would to God that this heap of barley had been all that had perifhed! for unhappily beneath this little shelter fat two much more conftant Lovers than ever were found in Romance under the shade of a beech tree. John Hewet was a well-fet man VOL. VIII. I

of

of about five and twenty, Sarah Drew might be rather called comely than beautiful, and was about the fame age. They had pafs'd thro' the various labours of the year together, with the greatest fatisfaction; if fhe milk'd, 'twas his morning and evening care, to bring the cows to her hand; it was but laft fair that he bought her a prefent of green filk for her ftraw hat, and the pofie on her filver ring was of his chufing. Their love was the talk of the whole neighbourhood; for fcandal never affirm'd, that they had any other views than the lawful poffeffion of each other in marriage. It was that very morning that he had obtained the confent of her parents, and it was but till the next week that they were to wait to be happy. Perhaps in the intervals of their work they were now talking of the wedding cloaths, and John was fuiting several sorts of poppies and field flowers to her complexion, to chufe her a knot for the wedding-day. While they were thus bufied, (it was on the last of July between two or three in the afternoon) the clouds grew black, and such a storm of lightning and thunder enfued, that all the labourers made the best of their way to what shelter the trees and hedges afforded. Sarah was frightned, and fell down in a fwoon on a heap of barley. John, who never separated from her, fat down by her fide, having raked together two or three heaps, the better to fecure her from the ftorm. Immediately there was heard fo loud a crack, as if heaven had split afunder; every one was now follicitous for the fafety of his neighbour, and called to one another throughout the field: No answer being returned to those who called to our Lovers, they stept to the place where they lay; they perceived the barley all in a fmoke, and then fpied this faithful pair: John with one arm about Sarah's neck, and the other held over her, as to fkreen her from the lightning. They were ftruck

dead,

dead, and ftiffen'd in this tender pofture. Sarah's left eye-brow was fing'd, and there appeared a black spot on her breaft: her lover was all over black, but not the leaft figns of life were found in either. Attended by their melancholy companions, they were convey'd to the town, and the next day were interr'd in Stanton-Harcourt Church-yard. My Lord Harcourt, at Mr. Pope's and my requeft, has caused a stone to be placed over them, upon condition that we furnish'd the Epitaph, which is as follows;

When Eaftern lovers feed the fun'ral fire, On the fame pile the faithful pair expire: Here pitying Heav'n that virtue mutual found, And blafted both, that it might neither wound. Hearts fo fincere th' Almighty faw well pleas'd, Sent his own lightning, and the victims feiz'd. But my Lord is apprehenfive the country people will not understand this, and Mr. Pope fays he'll make one with fomething of Scripture in it, and with as little of poetry as Hopkins and Sternhold *. Your, &c.

*

I 2

The Epitaph was this,

Near this place lie the bodies of
JOHN HEWET and MARY DREW,
an industrious young Man

and Virtuous Maiden of this Parith ;
Who being at Harvest-Work
(with feveral others)

were in one inftant killed by Lightning
the laft day of July 1718.

Think not, by rig'rous Judgment feiz'd,
A Pair fo faithful could expire;
Victims fo pure Heav'n faw well pleas'd,
And fnatch'd them in celeftial fire.

LET

I

LETTER VII.

DEAR GAY,

Sept. 11, 1722.

Thank you for remembering me; I would do my beft to forget myfelf, but that, I find, your idea is fo closely connected to me, that I must forget both together, or neither. I am forry I could not have a glympfe either of you, or of the Sun (your father) before you went for Bath: But now it pleases me to fee him, and hear of you. Pray put Mr. Congreve in mind that he has one on this fide of the world who loves him; and that there are more men and women in the universe than Mr. Gay and my Lady Duchefs. There are ladies in and about Richmond, that pretend to value him and yourself; and one of them at least may be thought to do it without affectation, namely Mrs. Howard.

Pray confult with Dr. Arbuthnot and Dr. Chene, to what exact pitch your belly may be fuffered to fwell, not to outgrow theirs, who are, yet, your betters. Tell Dr. Arbuthnot that even pigeonpyes and hogs-puddings are thought dangerous by our governors; for those that have been sent to the Bishop of Rochefter are open'd and prophanely pry'd into at the Tower: 'Tis the first time dead pigeons have been fufpected of carrying intelligence. To be ferious, you and Mr. Congreve and the Doctor will be fenfible of my concern and furprize at his commitment, whofe welfare is as much my concern as any friend's I have. I think myself a

Live well, and fear no fudden fate;
When God calls Virtue to the grave,
Alike 'tis juftice foon or late,

Mercy alike to kill or fave.

Virtue unmov'd can hear the call,
And face the flash that melts the ball.

moft