my book, which will be elegantly bound by Baumgarten.

My mother, whom I most tenderly loved, was ever, in my opinion, the best of women; I trust she is now the happiest: but my affliction for her loss is inconsolable. I shall be most happy to hear that you and your wife are well, and the early gratification of my wishes will be an additional pleasure.

LXXVIII.

From the Bishop of St. Asaph.

Nov. 3, 1781.

DEAR SIR, A LETTER from you is always welcome, come sooner or later; yet, I cannot help rejoicing at that ceaseless hurry of business, which occasioned your delay in writing, and made me lose a very valuable visit. Riches and reputation, after showing a little coyness at first, are now making their advances at a very great rate, and will soon be as lavish of their charms as you could wish; yet I know you think too liberally, to let either your friends or your liberty suffer by engrossing you too much.

I thank you for the nuptial ode, which, notwithstanding its incorrectness, which you need not complain of, is the most genuine imitation of Pin

dar I have ever seen. I don't know whether I can assent to your criticism on the word replete, that it is never used in a good sense. Were it left to me, I would use it in no sense. It has but little meaning. It was never naturalised in conversation or in prose; and, I think, makes no figure in

verse.

I have another present of value to thank you for-your Essay on the Law of Bailments. To own the truth, your name to the advertisement made me impatient; and I had sent for it, and read it before. It appears to me to be clear, just, and accurate-I mean as clear as the subject will permit. My want of law language, and perhaps of legal understanding, made me feel great difficulty in following you through your very ingenious distinctions and consequences, of which I thought I could perceive the solidity. I foretell that this will be your last work. For the future, your business and the public will allow you to write no more.

Though I fear it will not be consistent with your employment in Westminster Hall, I cannot help telling you, that, for as many days as you can spare between this time and the meeting of parliament, you will find a warm bed, and a hearty welcome at Chilbolton. Mrs. Shipley and her daughters desire their compliments, and join in the invitation.

I am,
&c.

J. ST. ASAPH.

LXXIX.

To the Rev. Edmund Cartwright.

Dec. 20, 1781.

DEAR SIR, SINCE I received your obliging letter, an interval of six months has elapsed; but in all that interval, I have either been deeply engaged in professional labours, or confined by illness: I have enjoyed no rest. At this moment I am slowly recovering from a severe inflammatory disorder: yet your letter, and your fine sonnets, have remained constantly on my mind, and I now take up my pen to thank you most warmly for the pleasure which they have given me. I hope my friend Watson has seen the noble wreath of laurel which your animated Muse has woven for him: I entreat you to send me the two others, which I long to see. The few copies which were printed of the Latin ode, are so dispersed, that I have not one for myself, and would print a few more, if a learned friend of mine had not engaged to publish it with notes historical and critical, for want of which it is in some parts obscure. You may depend on receiving one of the first copies that can see the light; and my seven Arabian poets will wait upon you as soon as the European dresses are finished. I take the liberty to enclose an ode

composed without preparation, and almost without any premeditation: it is the work of a few hours. In truth, when I attended the wedding, I had no thought of writing; but the young ladies would not hear of an excuse: you must therefore make all due allowance for poetry by compulsion.

I am, &c.

LXXX.

To Lord Althorpe.

January 5, 1782. O la bella cosa il far niente! This was my exclamation, my dear lord, on the 12th of last month, when I found myself, as I thought, at liberty to be a rambler, or an idler, or any thing I pleased: but but my mal di gola took ample revenge for my abuse and contempt of it, when I wrote to you, by confining me twelve days with a fever and quinsy; and I am now so cramped by the approaching session at Oxford, that I cannot make any long excursion. I enclose my tragical song of " A Shepherdess going," with Mazzanti's music, of which my opinion at present is, that the modulation is very artificial, and the harmony good; but that Pergolesi (whom the modern Italians are such puppies as to undervalue) would have made it more pathetic and heartrending, if I may compose such a word: I long to

hear it sung by Mrs. Poyntz. Pray present the enclosed, in my name, to lady Althorpe. I hope that I shall, in a short time, be able to think of you, when I read these charming lines of Catullus :*

And soon, to be completely blest,

Soon may a young Torquatus rise;
Who, hanging on his mother's breast,
To his known sire shall turn his eyes;
Outstretch his infant arms awhile;

Half ope his little lips, and smile.—(Translation.)

What a beautiful picture! can Dominichino equal it? How weak are all arts in comparison of poetry and rhetoric! Instead, however, of Torquatus, I would read Spencerus. Do you not think that I have discovered the true use of the fine artsnamely, in relaxing the mind after toil? Man was

born for labour; his configuration, his passions, his restlessness, all prove it; but labour would wear him out, and the purpose of it be defeated, if he had not intervals of pleasure; and unless that pleasure be innocent, both he and society must suffer. Now, what pleasures are more harmless, if they be nothing else, than those afforded by polite arts, and polite literature? Love was given us by the Author of our being, as the reward of virtue, and the solace of care; but the base and sordid

The original is quoted by Mr. Jones :

Torquatus volo parvulus,

Matris è gremio suæ,

Porrigens teneras manus,
Dulce rideat ad patrem,
Semi-hiante labello.