cence of my mind, which had now lost its native calmness; and I began to experience all the fantastic effects of spleen, vapours, caprice; in short, an uneasiness with myself, and every thing else in the world, the charming Comtesse herself not excepted.

But this set my guilt before me in its full aggravation. Envy and deceit had till now been strangers to my breast; which made me start at the monstrous forms. Every new favour from Madame la Comtesse reproached me with violating the trust and confidence she had in my truth and virtue, and for having a wish that she had been less beautiful and deserving. The affection and intimacy with which she treated me, gave me an horror for myself; and I was again generous and sincere, and, as I thought, perfectly confirmed in virtue: till the charming Comte appeared; when I found myself jealous, unjust, and perverted to vice in a moment.

However, I disguised my folly, from a secret delicacy in point of reputation, and an unaffected sense of honour. I am ashamed to tell you I had a thought that needed a disguise, though it was involuntary and unallowed. But I was an ill dissembler; and have some reason to believe the real disposition of my heart was perceived by the Comte; who, one evening, surprised me reclined on the side of a fountain, repeating these lines.

Come, bless'd religion, with thy angel's face,.
Dispel this gloom, and brighten all the place!
Drive this destructive passion from my breast,
Compose my sorrows, and restore my rest!
Shew me the path the sainted virgins trod,,
Wean me from earth, and raise my soul to God!
No more let guilty love my heart enflame !

The Comte understood English perfectly well: but I recovered myself with as good a grace as I could, and put on more gaiety and assurance than was indeed natural to my disposition; and, to conceal my disorder, left him with precipitancy, and returned to the Comtesse; who was in her apartment, reading the story of Rhetea in the life of Cyrus. She asked me, How I lik ed it? The question, I am persuaded, was accidental;

G

but, with some confusion, I answered, That I thought it well told. However, it awakened my remorse, and gave me an exquisite sense of the injustice of my secret inclinations.

From this moment I resolved to go back into the country, to conceal and conquer my folly. The tenderness and unaffected concern the Comtesse expressed in parting with me, confirmed my virtue, and gave me a secret confusion for the injustice of having wished her less happy. The calmness and serenity of my soul seemed to be restored; and I had left the place a conqueror, if the Comte had not led me to the coach, and by an accidental sigh, and a sort of serious air in his face, given my mind a softer turn, and convinced me of the vanity of human confidence, and that I had triumphed without a victory.

But the retirement of the country, and serious reflection, soon freed me from the tumultuous effects of a guilty passion. The scene altered with infinite advantage, and all grew peaceful and serene. I am now reconciled to myself, and find an ineffable satisfaction in the silent approbation of my own conduct; a satisfaction superior to all the empty applause of the crowd. I reflect with pleasure on the happy change. My soul seems now in its proper situation; and, conscious of its dignity, looks above this world for its rest and happiness. I am almost in a state of insensibility with regard to mortal things; and have fixed my views on those infinite delights which will be the certain rewards of virtue, What is there here to fill these vast desires?

Should Fancy all her dazzling scenes display,

Our wishes unconfin'd, would wander still
Beyond the limits of these narrow skies,

In search of boundless and immortal joys. Adieu, my dear Belinda. As long as I leave you to the quiet possession of the dear town, and its dear joys, you will not envy me all that a gay imagination can form of future pleasures. I have trusted you with the inmost secrets of my soul, and know I can depend upon your fidelity. I am your unalterable friend,

SYLVIA.

[See the sequel of this story in Letter 5. Part II.]

LETTER IV.

To Eusebius, from a Deist.

WHERE shall I find rest! the wide creation denies it. I have run through all the varieties of human folly, and searched every vanity below the sun! I have tried what was to be found in madness; women, wine, and frolic have divided my hours; and I am now trying what satisfaction wisdom and philosophy can yield. You have made me at last a convert to natural religion, and turned me into a sort of a virtuous Heathen. Morality in its practice is no longer my aversion. I begin to think reason and immortality the highest advantages of humanity. That there is a God, all nature cries aloud through all her works; and while I am attending those sacred dictates, in such raptures as these, I often address myself

"To the unknown GOD.

WHATE'ER thou art, thou Excellence unknown!
"Tis thee thro' 'all thy various works we seek.
These secret languishments, these fierce desires,
Howe'er licentious, free, and unconfin'd,
Pursue unseen an object infinite.

Thro' ev'ry fair disguise, the leading GOD
Allures our cager souls. That rosy blush,
Those sparkling eyes, and soft enchanting smiles,
Received their charms from thee, beauty is thine
In all its conq'ring powers. In thee
We trace up pleasure to its sacred source.
We meet thee in the balmy western breeze,
The fragrance of the spring, the spicy isles;
And all Arabia breathes its sweets from thee.
From harmony to harmony we rise,

To that superior skill which tun'd the spheres,
Gave melody to Gabriel's heavenly lyre,
And every moving grace to Ralli's song.
Whatever sacred force in music lies,

The dying strain that calms the wildest care,
Or loftier note that prompts to glorious deeds:
Th' inspiring God dwells in the mystic sound,
And charms and captivates the list'ning soul,
Through all her soft capacitics of joy.

But what art thou, the secret spring of life,
Supreme in all perfections, though unknown ?

LA

More lovely than the fairest of thy works;
For thou art still beyond similitude:
Still rising with distinguish'd eminence,
In perfect beauty, and unrival'd glory,

But what those beauties, what those glories are,
No mortal eye has seen, nor boldest flight
Of fancy in her gayest scenes conceived.
Some soft celestial echoes from afar,
Some glimm'ring rays with a reflected light,
Attract our souls, and kindle warm desires,
Impetuous wishes and aspiring hopes,
Which own no bounds, but infinitely free,
Break through created limits with contempt,
And seek the great Original of bliss.

But, Oh! if Love-if Love's the boasted name,
And darling attribute, reveal thyself,
Unfold the heavenly wonders of thy face,
And stand in open majesty confess'd!

Why was I form'd with these aspiring thoughts,
And elegant desires, these boundless arms,
That reach at nothing short of GOD himself?
If 'tis a bliss impossible to man;

If thou wilt never fill these vast desires,

Why were they raised ?-This eminence of thought
Is but my torment Oh! recal again

This glorious curse, this thankless gift, my reason!
This immortality, my dread, my horror!
Far rather had I flourish'd in a plant,
And only reached a vegetable life,
Open'd my blossoms to the rising sun,

And dropp'd their beauties e'er the evening close!
Or had I mounted with the feather'd race
In heights of air, or with my fellow brutes
At freedom rang'd the trackless deserts o'er:
Slept in a den, or stretch'd my careless bulk
Secure in open fields, heedless of good
Or evil past, or present, or to come!

Oh, envy'd lot to mine if I must live
Eternal years excluded from thy face,
Be it in earth, or air, or in the deep,.

Where thou art absent every place is hell!

The fields and woods are often witnesses to these soliloquies, while I fly from man, to converse with the great Spirit of nature; for you have at last convinced me of a divine présence, with whose immensity I am surrounded. To this conscious Mind I sometimes address myself. With pleasure I grow acquainted with this propitious Being, and adore him as the spring of my existence. I seem to find some new capacities of

happiness awake in my soul. I languish for some unknown joys, some yet unexperienced pleasures; and grow confident that the power who raised these desires, will at last gratify them,

That silence, that self-reflection and retirement, that was lately my horror, is now become my delight; while I am attending the dictates of reason,`and sincerely endeavouring to know the will of that divine Mind, who must be too beneficent to leave me in my present doubts, while I am sincerely seeking the heavenly illumination.

Thus far, my dear Eusebius, your arguments have had success. I have the highest obligations to you, for not suffering me to degrade myself into the rank of animals, and for persuading me to assume the dignity of a reasonable creature. In that capacity, I am

Your most obliged humble sèrvant,
PHILANDER.

To Mrs

LETTER V.

from Amoret, giving an account of

her criminal passion for Sebastian.

Madam,

How shall I begin? What language can paint the confusion of my thoughts? which could you be sensible of, it would be some apology for the fatal secret I would discover. I am yet but a modest sinner; and can neither excuse, nor dare disguise my guilt, from one who till-now has shared all the secrets of my soul.

Oh, think what I would say! Imagine what it is I find such reluctance to discover, and which I must discover, though it should cost me all your esteem ! your esteem, which has been my pride and happiness. But even that I will resign, rather than suffer you to injure your own character, by a continuance of that friendship I have forfeited:

f

I am not that modest innocent person you believe me. There is no disguising my infamy, nor recovering my lost honour.