his dominions to Virgil; Virgil left his to his son Spenser; and Spenser was succeeded by his eldest-born Philips."

In the poem, "Menalcas, king of the shepherds, means Theocritus, the most ancient, and, perhaps, the best, writer of pastorals: and by his two daughters, Daphne and Hyla, must be understood the two sorts of pastoral poetry; the one elegant and polished, the other simple and unadorned; in both of which he excelled. Virgil, whom Pope chiefly followed, seems to have borne away the palm in the higher sort; and Spenser, whom Gay imitated with success, had equal merit in the more rustic style: these two poets, therefore, may justly be supposed in this allegory to have inherited his kingdom of Arcadia *."

This poem, like every other poetical production from the pen of Sir William Jones, is remarkable for its sweetness of versification; its imagery too, is, in an eminent degree, beautiful and appropriate. The two chief classes of pastoral poetry, as derived from Theocritus and Virgil, are thus allegorized in the description of the daughters of Menalcas:

Two lovely daughters were his dearest care;
Both mild as May, and both as April fair;

* Sir William Jones's Poems, 8vo. second edit. 1777, p. 37.

Love, where they mov'd, each youthful breast inflam'd;

And Daphne this, and Hyla that was nam'd.
The first was bashful as a blooming bride,
And all her mien display'd a decent pride;
Her tresses braided in a curious knot
Were close confin'd, and not a hair forgot;
Where many a flower, in mystic order plac'd,
With myrtle twin'd, her silken fillet grac'd;
Nor with less neatness was her robe dispos'd,
And every fold a pleasing art disclos'd;
Her sandals of the brightest silk were made,
And, as she walk'd, gave lustre to the shade;
A graceful ease in every step was seen,
She mov'd a shepherdess, yet look'd a queen.
Her sister scorn'd to dwell in arching bowers,
Or deck her locks with wreaths of fading flowers;
O'er her bare shoulder flow'd her auburn hair,
And, fann'd by Zephyrs, floated on the air;
Green were her buskins, green the vest she wore,
And in her hand a knotty crook she bore.
The voice of Daphne might all pains disarm;
Yet, heard too long, its sweetness ceas'd to charm;
But none were tir'd when artless Hyla sung,
Though something rustic warbled from her tongue.
Thus both in beauty grew, and both in fame,
Their manners different, yet their charms the same *.

A small portion of the imagery of these lines is taken from the Guardian: but, to show in what manner Sir William has availed himself of the fancy and colouring of Tickell, or, if the reader please, of Addison, we shall transcribe the description of the person and performance of the

* Poems, p. 100.

successful lover, as given in the essay and the poem.

"The fourth that stepped forward was young Amyntas, the most beautiful of the Arcadian swains, and secretly beloved by Amaryllis. He wore that day the same colours as the maid for whom he sighed. He moved towards her with an easy, but unassumed air; she blushed as he came near her; and when she gave him the fatal present, they both trembled, but neither could speak. Having secretly breathed his vows to the gods, he poured forth such melodious notes, that, though they were a little wild and irregular, they filled every heart with delight. The swains immediately mingled in the dance; and the old shepherds affirmed, that they had often heard such music by night, which they imagined to be played by some of the rural deities."

Soon to the bower a modest stripling came,
Fairest of swains, and Tityrus* his name:
Mild was his look, and easy grace he show'd,

And o'er his beauteous limbs a decent mantle flow'd:
As through the crowd he press'd, the sylvan choir

His mien applauded, and his neat attire ;
And Daphne, yet untaught in amorous lore,
Felt strange desires, and pains unknown before.

He now begins; the dancing hills attend,
And knotty oaks from mountain tops descend;

* The name, supposed to be taken by Virgil, in his first pastoral.

He sings of swains below the beechen shade,
When lovely Amaryllis fill'd the glade *;
Next, in a sympathizing lay, complains
Of love unpitied, and the lovers pains:
But when with art the hallow'd pipe he blew,
What deep attention hush'd the rival crew!
He played so sweetly and so sweetly sung,
That on each note th' enraptur'd audience hung;
Ev'n blue-hair'd nymphs, from Ladon's limpid stream,
Rais'd their bright heads, and listen'd to the theme;
Then through the yielding waves in transport glanc'd,
Whilst on the banks the joyful shepherds danc'd:
"We oft, said they, at close of evening flowers,
"Have heard such music in the vocal bowers:
"We wonder'd; for we thought some amorous god,
"That on a silver moonbeam swiftly rode,
"Had fann'd with starry plumes the floating air,
"And touch'd his harp, to charm some mortal fair +."

6. JONATHAN SWIFT. Of the life of this eccentric character, so numerous and so copious have been the details, and by men of the first respectability in the republic of letters, that even had we room to enter at full length into the consideration of his biography, the attempt might be justly thought unnecessary, and altogether a work of supererogation. We shall, therefore, limit ourselves to a few observations on the chief productions of his pen, and on the principal events

*Formosam resonare doces Amaryllida sylvas. Virg. + Poems, p. 114.

of his life; dividing them, for the sake of perspicuity, into three heads, Literary, Political, and Domestic.

Swift was, according to his own account, the son of an attorney at Dublin, and was born in that city on St. Andrew's day, in the year 1667. He was early sent to the school at Kilkenny, and in his fifteenth year became a member of the university of Dublin. It was with difficulty that he obtained his batchelor's degree, but the disgrace arising from this circumstance only stimulated him to greater exertion; an effect which, as Johnson has well observed, may afford useful admonition and powerful encouragement to men, whose abilities have been made for a time useless by their passions or pleasures, and who, having lost one part of life in idleness, are tempted to throw away the remainder in despair *."

In 1688, and when about the age of one-andtwenty, Swift obtained the patronage of Sir William Temple, to whom he was distantly related. Under the roof of this amiable man he resided, as a friend and companion, with the exception of one short period, until 1699, when the death of his patron compelled him more immediately to appeal to his own talents for support.

The church had been early chosen by Swift *Lives, vol. iii. p. 2.