Sed tandem furiis ultricibus actus ob artes Queis sua res tenuis creverat in cumulum, O inimicum aurum! O homini infestissima pestis Aurum cuncta mali per terras semina sparsit ;' Bella docet fortes, timidosque ad pessima ducit, Ostendens, tremulum sic deus increpuit. Questibus his raucis mihi cur, stulte, obstrepis aures? Commaculavi egone humanum genus, improbe? Culpa, VOL. II. EEE Virtutis Virtutis specie, pulchro cen pallio amictus Tum, quasi numen inesset, alit, fovet, educat orbos Quo sua crimina jure auro derivet avarus Aurum animæ pretium qui cupit atque capit? Lege pari gladium incuset sicarius atrox Caso homine, et ferrum judicet esse reum, Papilio et Limax. Qui subito ex imis rerum in fastigia surgit, In closing this series of Cowper's Translations, I must not fail to express my concern, that I am unable to present to my reader, according to my intention, a specimen of the Henriade, as translated by the poetical Brothers. I had been informed, that I should find their production in a Magazine for the year 1759I have indeed found in a Magazine of that period a version of the Poem, but not by the Cowpers; yet their version probably exists comprized in a periodical publication:-but my own researches, and those of a few literary friends, kindly diligent in enquiry, have hitherto been unable to discover it. APPENDIX [No. 8.] During Cowper's visit to Eartham, he kindly pointed out to me three of his Papers in the last Volume of the Connoisseur.-I inscribed them with his name at the time, and imagine that the readers of his Life may be gratified in seeing them inserted here. I find other Numbers of that Work ascribed to him, but the three following Iprint as his, on his own explicit authority. Number 119. Thursday, May 6, 1756.— Number 134. Thursday, August 19, 1756.—Number 138. Thursday, Sept. 16, 1756. THERE is no mark of our confidence taken more kindly by a friend, than the entrusting him with a secret; nor any which he is so likely to abuse. Confidants in general are like crazy firelocks, which are no sooner charged and cocked, than the spring gives way, and the report immediately follows. Happy to have been thought worthy the confidence of one friend, they are impa tient to manifest their importance to another: till between them and their friend, and their friend's friend, the whole matter is presently known to all our friends round the Wrekin. The secret catches as it were, by contact, and like electrical matter, breaks forth from every link in the chain, almost at the same instant. Thus the whole Exchange may be thrown into a buz to-morrow by what was whispered in the middle of Marlborough Downs this morning, and in a week's time the streets may ring with the intrigue of a woman of fashion, bellowed out from the foul mouths of the hawkers, though at present it is known to no creature living, but her gallant and her waiting-maid. As the talent of secrecy is of so great importance to society, and the necessary commerce between individuals cannot be securely carried on without it, that this deplorable weakness should be so general, is much to be lamented. You may as well pour water into a funnel, or a sieve, and expect it to be retained there, as commit any of your concerns to so slippery a companion. It is remarkable, that in those men, who have thus lost the faculty of retention, the desire of being communicative is always most prevalent, where it is least justified. If they are entrusted with a matter of no great moment, affairs of more consequence will perhaps in a few hours shuffle it intirely out of their thoughts: but if any thing be delivered to them with an earnestness, a low voice, and the gesture of a man in terror for the consequence of its being known; if the door is bolted, and every precaution taken to prevent surprise, however they may promise secresy, and however they may intend it, the weight upon their minds will be so extremely oppressive, that it will certainly put their tongues in motion. This breach of trust, so universal amongst us, is perhaps in great measure owing to our education. The first lesson our little masters and misses are taught is to become blabs and tell-tales: they are bribed to divulge the petty intrigues of the family below stairs to papa and mamma in the parlour, and a doll or hobby-horse is generally the encouragement of a propensity, which could scarcely be atoned for by a whipping. As soon as children can lisp out the little intelligence they have picked up in the hall, or the kitchen, they are admired for their wit; if the butler has been caught kissing the housekeeper in his pantry, or the footman detected in romping with the chambermaid, away flies little Tommy or Betsy with the news; the parents are lost in admiration of the pretty rogue's understanding, and reward such uncommon ingenuity with a kiss or a sugar-plumb. Nor does an inclination to secrecy meet with less encouragement at school. The governantes at the boarding-school teach miss to be a good girl, and tell them every thing she knows thus if any young lady is unfortunately discovered eating a green apple in a corner; if she is heard to pronounce a naughty word, or is caught picking |