has as much out-fhin'd all the French ladies, as she did the English before: I am forry for it, because it will be detrimental to our holy religion, if heretical women should eclipse those Nuns and orthodox Beauties, in whose eyes alone lie all the hopes we can have, of gaining fuch 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 disappointments. LETTER VI. From Mr. GAY to Mr. F. Stanton-Harcourt, Aug. 9, 1718. HE only news that you can expect to TH 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 efcap'd: the only thing that is proof against it is the laurel, which, how ever, 1 ever, 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 universe, which is in this neighbourhood, ftand ftill undefaced, while a cock of barley in our next field has been confumed to ashes. Would to God that this heap of barley had been all that had perished! 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 of about five and twenty, Sarah Drew might be rather called comely than beautiful, and was about the fame age. They had pass'd thro' the various labours of the year together, with the greatest satisfaction; if the 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 straw hat, and the pofie on her filver ring was of his chufing. Their love was the talk of the whole neighbourhood; for scandal 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 forts 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 laft 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 swoon 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 secure 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 perperceived 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 skreen her from the lightning. They were ftruck dead, and ftiffen'd in this tender pofture. Sarah's left eye-brow was finged, and there appeared a black spot on her breaft: her lover was all over black, but not the leaft figns of 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 request, has caused a ftone 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 seiz'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 a Your, &c. ? The Epitaph was this, Near this place lie the bodies of were in one inftant killed by Lightning Think not, by rig'rous Judgment feiz'd, And fnatch'd them in celeftial fire. I LETTER VII. DEAR GAY, Sept. 11, 1722. I Thank you for remembering me; I would do my beft to forget myself, but that, I find, your idea is so closely connected to me, that I must forget both together, or neither. 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. Cheyne, to what exact pitch your belly may be fuffered to fwell, not to outgrow theirs, who are, yet, your betters. Tell Dr. Arbuthnot Live well, and fear no fudden fate; 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. - that |