distresses. He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then they are glad because they be quiet, so he bringeth them unto their desired haven." By the way, how much more comfortable, as well 5 as rational, is this system of the Psalmist, than the pagan scheme in Virgil, and other poets, where one deity is represented as raising a storm, and another as laying it? Were we only to consider the sublime in this piece of poetry, what can be 10 nobler than the idea it gives us of the Supreme Being thus raising a tumult among the elements, and recovering them out of their confusion, thus troubling and becalming nature? Great painters do not only give us landskips of 15 gardens, groves, and meadows, but very often employ their pencils upon sea-pieces: I could wish. you would follow their example. If this small sketch may deserve a place among your works, I shall accompany it with a divine ode, made by a 20 gentleman upon the conclusion of his travels. I. How are thy servants blest, O Lord! How sure is their defence! Eternal Wisdom is their guide, Their help Omnipotence. II. In foreign realms, and lands remote, Supported by thy care, Through burning climes I passed unhurt, And breathed in tainted air. III. Thy mercy sweetened every soil, IV. Think, O my soul, devoutly think, Thou saw'st the wide extended deep V. Confusion dwelt in every face, And fear in every heart; When waves on waves, and gulfs in gulfs, O'ercame the pilot's art. VI. Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord, Thy mercy set me free, Whilst in the confidence of prayer My soul took hold on thee. VII. For though in dreadful whirls we hung I knew thou wert not slow to hear, VIII. The storm was laid, the winds retired, Obedient to thy will; The sea that roared at thy command, At thy command was still. IX. In midst of dangers, fears and death, And praise thee for thy mercies past; X. My life, if thou preserv'st my life, Thy sacrifice shall be; And death, if death must be my doom, No. 517. THURSDAY, OCTOBER 23. [1712.] Heu pietas! heu prisca fides !-VIRG. WE last night received a piece of ill news at our club, which very sensibly afflicted every one of us. I question not but my readers themselves will be troubled at the hearing of it. To keep them no longer in suspense, Sir Roger de Coverly is dead. 5 He departed this life at his house in the country, after a few weeks' sickness. Sir Andrew Freeport has a letter from one of his correspondents in those parts, that informs him the old man caught a cold at the county sessions, as he was very warmly pro- 10 moting an address of his own penning, in which he succeeded according to his wishes. But this particular comes from a Whig justice of peace, who was always Sir Roger's enemy and antagonist. I have letters both from the chaplain and Captain 15 Sentry which mention nothing of it, but are filled with many particulars to the honour of the good old man. I have likewise a letter from the butler, who took so much care of me last summer when I was at the knight's house. As my friend the butler mentions, in the simplicity of his heart, several circumstances the others have passed over in silence, 5 I shall give my reader a copy of his letter, without any alteration or diminution, "HONOURED SIR, "Knowing that you was my old master's good friend, I could not forbear sending you the melancholy news of his death, which 10 has afflicted the whole country, as well as his poor servants, who loved him, I must say, better than we did our lives. I am afraid he caught his death the last county-sessions, where he would go to see justice done to a poor widow woman, and her fatherless children, that had been wronged by a neighbouring gentleman; 15 for you know,1 my good master was always the poor man's friend. Upon his coming home, the first complaint he made was, that he had lost his roast-beef stomach, not being able to touch a sirloin, which was served up according to custom; and you know he used to take great delight in it. From that time forward he grew 20 worse and worse, but still kept a good heart to the last. Indeed we were once in great hopes of his recovery, upon a kind message that was sent him from the widow lady whom he had made love to the forty last years of his life; but this only proved a lightning before his death. He had bequeathed to this lady, as 25 a token of his love, a great pearl necklace, and a couple of silver bracelets set with jewels, which belonged to my good old lady his mother: he has bequeathed the fine white gelding, that he used to ride a hunting upon, to his chaplain, because he thought he would be kind to him, and has left you all his books. He has, 30 moreover, bequeathed to the chaplain a very pretty tenement with good lands about it. It being a very cold day when he made his will, he left for mourning, to every man in the parish, a great frize-coat, and to every woman a black riding-hood. It was a most moving sight to see him take leave of his poor serv35 ants, commending us all for our fidelity, whilst we were not able 1 1712, you know, sir. 2 1712, before death. to speak a word for weeping. As we most of us are grown greyheaded in our dear master's service, he has left us pensions and legacies, which we may live very comfortably upon the remaining part of our days. He has bequeathed a great deal more in charity, which is not yet come my knowledge,3 and it is peremptorily said 5 in the parish, that he has left money to build a steeple to the church; for he was heard to say some time ago, if he lived two years longer, Coverly church should have a steeple to it. The chaplain tells everybody that he made a very good end, and never speaks of him without tears. He was buried, according to 10 his own directions, among the family of the Coverlies, on the left hand of his father Sir Arthur. The coffin was carried by six of his tenants, and the pall held up by six of the quorum: the whole parish followed the corpse with heavy hearts, and in their mourning suits, the men in frize, and the women in riding-hoods. 15 Captain Sentry, my master's nephew, has taken possession of the hall-house, and the whole estate. When my old master saw him a little before his death, he shook him by the hand, and wished him joy of the estate which was falling to him, desiring him only to make a good use of it, and to pay the several legacies, 20 and the gifts of charity which he told him he had left as quit-rents upon the estate. The Captain truly seems a courteous man, though says but little. He makes much of those whom my master loved, and shows great kindness to the old house-dog, that you know my poor master was so fond of. It would have 25 gone to your heart to have heard the moans the dumb creature made on the day of my master's death. He has never joyed himself since; no more has any of us. It was the melancholiest day for the poor people that ever happened in Worcestershire. This being all from, "P.S. "Honoured Sir, your most sorrowful servant, "EDWARD BISCUIT. My master desired, some weeks before he died, that a book which comes up to you by the carrier should be given to Sir Andrew Freeport in his name." 30 35 |