To men, to angels, be my soul unveil'd,
Nor any part of heavenly truth conceal'd!
The glorious cause that animates my breast,
My lips with holy triumph shall attest;
Attest it with my last expiring breath,
And smile in all the solemn pomp of death.
But darker scenes before my fancy rise,
And, nature, vanquished, sinks in the surprise.
To shake my utmost virtue, 'tis decreed,
That thou to Rome must first a victim bleed.
How shall thy wretched wife that stroke survive!
An hour beyond will be an age to live.
But, Guilford, keep thy sacred truth unstain'd,
And half my immortality is gain'd.

Ye virgin saints, that, in your early bloom, From cruel tyrants met a fatal doom; That dy'd, the honour of the Christian faith, And boldly trod the same illustrious path, To animate the youthful suff'rer's breast, Appear, in all your heav'nly glories drest; Shew him your sparkling crowns, the bright reward For such distinguish'd constancy prepar'd ; Open your rosy bow'rs, ye blissful seats, Your gardens of delight, and soft retreats Where gentle gales ambrosial odours blow, And springs of joy in endless currents flow; With smiling visions recreate his soul, And ev'ry doubting anxious thought controul.

LETTER XVI.

Lord Guilford Dudley to Lady Jane Grey.

MAY ev'ry watchful angel guard thy life,
My lovely princess, and my charming wife!
For thee I importune the skies with pray'rs,
And waste the tedious hours in gloomy cares.
Were I from all the world but thee confin'd,,
I'd call the stars propitious still, and kind;

These prison walls would prove a safe retreat,
From all the restless factions of the great.
Sink, curs'd Ambition, to thy native hell!
And with thy kindred fiends for ever dwell!
Were I, my fair, again possess'd of thee,
What toys were kingdoms, and their crowns, to me!
Inglorious, in some blissful shades I'd prove
The silent joys of unmolested love.

Why was thy birth deriv'd from ancient kings?
Our mis'ry from this fatal greatness springs.
Indulgent love a gentler lot design'd,

Nor form'd for public cares thy guiltless mind;
Thy thoughts were all employ'd on softer themes,
Tender and innocent as infants dreams :
And yet but Heaven the title disallows,
A crown, methought, look'd glorious on thy brows.
In ev'ry look, in all thy graceful mien,
The brightest rays of majesty were seen;
Imperial beauty sparkl'd in thy eyes:
I gaz'd with ecstasy, and new surprise,
A thousand times I press'd thy lovely hand,
And cry'd, 'Twas form'd a sceptre to command.
But these gay scenes for ever take their flight,
Like some fantastic vision of the night.

Oh I could my death the angry queen appease,
Could that alone a raging faction please;
Unterrify'd, I'd meet the public storm,

And challenge death in ev'ry dreadful form.
But, oh! what horrors rise !-thy tender life!-
What would I speak? my lov'd, my beauteous wife!
What counsel can thy wretched husband give?
On any terms I fain would have thee live.
Forgive my stagg'ring faith, my coward heart;
My better thoughts disclaim this shameful part.
What course can my distracting passions take,
When thou, when truth, when heav'n itself's at stake?
To endless darkness would I drag thee down,
And poorly rob thee of a martyr's crown.
May Heav'n forbid! I'll be thy joyful guide,
Nor shall the fatal stroke our souls divide.

O Death! where is thy boasted conquest now? Where are the frowns and terrors of thy brow? Thou hast an angel's heav'nly form and air; Pleasure sand graces in thy train appear. Ten thousand kind transporting scenes arise; Oh, come, my fair! they call us to the skies, Beauties, like thee, in nature's early pride, Undaunted, for their sacred faith have dy'd; With theirs, with all th' illustrious names of old, The British glory, thine shall be inroll'd.

I CANNOT say you have turned me into an angel; r have too much modesty to compliment you or myself with such miracles: but you have certainly given an elevation to my mind which I never before experienced. And, without any design but doing you justice, I may own, that, from a savage, I am become human: and, from a libertine, regular and consistent! from a lover, you have metamorphosed me into a reasonable creature. However odd this confession appears, this is making you a greater compliment than swearing you have made me a lunatic, and a madman. It is more glorious for you to be valued by a man in his right senses, than to be stared at by one quite out of his wits. My being more reasonable, does not argue that you are less amiable:

"For inward greatness, unaffected wisdom,

"And sanctity of manners, improve your charms."

ADDISON.

You have convinced me that virtue is more than an empty name, that it is the most sacred reality. I see, I acknowledge the bright divinity. She insults my infidelity by a thousand modern instances of her power. Among the youthful and mature, the gentle and severe, she boasts her votaries. Virtue retires no more to cot

tages and cells; but secure of public triumph and applause, she makes the British Court her imperial residence.

The goddess all her glorious self appears,
When Carolina's royal form she wears,

With ev'ry conqu'ring charm she stands reveal'd,
While subject hearts their glad allegiance yield.

Long may this propitious queen be the joy and boast of a great and happy nation! You find I am grown public-spirited. It is you that hath given this generous. ardour to my soul, and kindled the sincerest zeal for the honour of my king and country. I grow impatient to draw my sword in their defence, and would commence the hero. Nor will I dissemble the truth, but freely own to you, that, in my state of infidelity, my bravery was all affected, and often disguised under the most slavish terrors.

I perceive, Madam, it is my own panegyric I am writing rather than yours. Indeed my character cannot be in better hands. I have certainly done myself justice, and been punctual in the recital of my good qualities; and, with great modesty, have thought fit to. propose myself as an example of the reformation of

manners.

You will conclude I am in a disposition to write a moral essay, rather than a love letter; which was really my prime intention; but you have ridiculed all my figures of rhetoric on that subject, so that I am forced to change my style in my own defence. But I hope I am intelligible, in assuring you I am, without reserve, Madam,

Your most devoted,

and most humble servant,

ALBANUS.

LETTERS

LETTERS

ΤΟ

CLEOR A.

LETTER I

Madam,

IT is certainly better for yourself, and more for the security of mankind, that you should live in some rural abode, than appear in the world. Such persons as you are fatal to the public tranquillity, and do mischief without ever designing it. But I must own, when belles and beaux retire to country shades for the sake of hea venly contemplation, the world will be well reformed. A hermit's life might be tolerable, while the serious hours are divided between Hyde-park and the Opera; but a more distant retreat, in the full pride of your charms and youth, would be very extraordinary. To be convinced, by so early experience, that mankind are amused only with dreams and fantastic appearances, must proceed from a superior degree of virtue and good sense. After a thousand convictions of the vanity of their pursuits, how few know the emphasis of these few lines!

Sweet solitude! when life's gay hours are past, • Howe'er we range, in thee we fix at last. • Toss'd thro' tempestuous seas, (the voyage o'er,) 'Pale we look back, and bless the friendly shore. Our own strict judges, our past life we scan, And ask, if virtue has enlarg'd the span. If bright the prospect, we the grave defy, Trust future ages, and contented die.' Nothing is, perhaps, more terrible to the imagination than absolute solitude: yet I must own, such a retreat as disengages the mind from those interests and passions which mankind generally pursue, appears to me the

TICKELL.