The wanton winds through groves of cassia play,
And steal the ripen'd fragrances away;
Here with its load the wild amomum bends;
There cinnamon, in rival sweets, contends;
A rich perfume the ravish'd senses fills,
While from the weeping tree the balm distils.

At these delightful bowers arrives at last
The God of Love, a tedious journey past;
Then shapes his way to reach the fronting gate,
Doubles his majesty, and walks in state.
It chanc'd upon a radiant throne reclin'd,
Venus her golden tresses did unbind :
Proud to be thus employ'd, on either hand
Th' Idalian sisters, rang'd in order stand.
Ambrosial essence one bestows in showers,
And lavishly whole streams of nectar pours,
With ivory combs another's dext'rous care
Or curls, or opens the dishevell'd hair;
A third, industrious with a nicer eye,
Instructs the ringlets in what form to lie:
Yet leaves some few, that, not so closely prest,
Sport in the wind, and wanton from the rest.
Sweet negligence! by artful study wrought,
A graceful error, and a lovely fault.
The judgment of the glass is here unknown;
Here mirrors are supplied by ev'ry stone.
Where'er the goddess turns, her image falls,
And a new Venus dances on the walls.
Now while she did her spotless form survey,
Pleas'd with Love's empire, and almighty sway,
She spied her son, and fir'd with eager joy,
Sprung forwards, and embrac'd the fav'rite boy.

N° 128. FRIDAY, AUGUST 7, 1713.

Delenda est Carthago
Demolish Carthage.

[T is usually thought, with great justice, a very imper

which regard the state. But the memorial which is mentioned in the following letter is so daring, and so apparently designed for the most traitorous purpose imaginable, that I do not care what misinterpretation I suffer, when I expose it to the resentment of all men who value their country, or have any regard to the honour, safety, or glory of their queen. It is certain there is not much danger in delaying the demolition of Dunkirk during the life of his present most Christian majesty, who is renowned for the

most inviolable regard to treaties; but that pious prince is aged, and in case of his decease, now the power of France and Spain is in the same family, it is possible an ambitious successor (or his ministry in a king's minority) might dispute his being bound by the act of his predecessor in so weighty a particular.

"MR. IRONSIDE,

"You employ your important moments, methinks, a little too frivolously, when you consider so often little circumstances of dress and behaviour and never make mention of matters wherein you and all your fellow-subjects in general are concerned. I give you now an opportunity, not only of manifesting your loyalty to your queen, but your affection to your country, if you treat an insolence done to them both with the disdain it deserves. The enclosed printed paper in French and English has been handed about the town, and given gratis to passengers in the streets at noonday. You see the title of it is, "A most humble address, or memorial, presented to her majesty the Queen of Great Britain, by the deputy of the magistrates of Dunkirk." The nauseous memorialist, with the most fulsome flattery, tells the queen of her thunder, and of wisdom and clemency adored by all the earth; at the same time that he attempts to undermine her power, and escape her wisdom, by beseeching her to do an act which will give a well-grounded jealousy to her people. What the sycophant desires is, that the mole and dykes of Dunkirk may be spared; and it seems the Sieur Tugghe, for so the petitioner is called, was thunderstruck by the denunciation which he says "the Lord Viscount Bolingbroke made to him," that her majesty did not think to make any alteration in the dreadful sentence she had pronounced against the town. Mr. Ironside, I think you would do an act worthy your general humanity, if you would put the Sieur Tugghe right in this matter; and let him know, that her majesty has pronounced no sentence against the town, but his most Christian majesty has agreed that the town and harbour shall be demolished.

"That the British nation expect the immediate demolition of it.

"That the very common people know, that within three

months after the signing of the peace, the works towards the sea were to be demolished; and, within three months after it, the works towards the land.

"That the said peace was signed the last of March, O. S.

That the parliament has been told from the queen, that the equivalent for it is in the hands of the French king. "That the Sieur Tugghe has the impudence to ask the queen to remit the most material part of the articles of peace between her majesty and his master.

"That the British nation received more damage in their trade from the port. of Dunkirk, than from almost all the ports of France, either in the ocean, or the Mediterranean.

"That fleets of above thirty sail have come together out of Dunkirk, during the late war, and taken ships of war as well as merchantmen.

"That the Pretender sailed from thence to Scotland; and that it is the only port the French have until you come to Brest, for the whole length of St. George's chan→ nel, where any considerable naval armament can be made.

"That destroying the fortifications of Dunkirk is an inconsiderable advantage to England, in comparison to the advantage of destroying the mole, dykes, and harbour; it being the naval force from thence which only can hurt the British nation.

"That the British nation expect the immediate demolition of Dunkirk.

"That the Dutch, who suffered equally with us from those of Dunkirk, were probably induced to sign the treaty with France from this consideration, that the town and harbour of Dunkirk should be destroyed.

"That the situation of Dunkirk is such, as that it may always keep runners to observe all ships sailing on the Thames and Medway.

"That all the suggestions which the Sieur Tugghe brings concerning the Dutch, are false and scandalous.

"That whether it may be advantageous to the trade of Holland or not, that Dunkirk should be demolished, it is necessary for the safety, honour, and liberty of England, that it should be so.

"That when Dunkirk is demolished, the power of France, on that side, should it ever be turned against us, will be

removed several hundred miles farther off Great Britain than it is at present.

"That after the demolition, there can be no consider→ able preparation made at sea by the French on all the Channel, but at Brest; and that Great Britain being an island, which cannot be attacked but by a naval power, we may esteem France effectually removed, by the demolition, from Great Britain, as far as the distance from Dunkirk to Brest.

66

Pray, Mr. Ironside, repeat this last particular, and put it in a different letter, That the demolition of Dunkirk will remove France many hundred miles farther off from us; and then repeat again, that the British nation expects the demolition of Dunkirk.

"I demand of you, as you love and honour your queen and country, that you insert this letter, or speak to this purpose, your own way; for in this all parties must agree, that however bound in friendship one nation is with another, it is but prudent, that in case of a rupture, they should be, if possible, upon equal terms.

"Be honest, old Nestor, and say all this; for whatever half-witted hot whigs may think, we all value our estates and liberties; and every true man of each party must think himself concerned that Dunkirk should be demolished.

"It lies upon all who have the honour to be in the ministry to hasten this matter, and not let the credulity of an honest brave people be thus infamously abused in our open streets.

"I cannot go on for indignation; but pray God that our mercy to France may not expose us to the mercy of France. Your humble servant, "ENGLISH TORY."

& No 129. SATURDAY, AUGUST 8, 1713.

A

-Animasque in vulnere ponunt.-VIRG. Georg. iv. 238. And part with life, only to wound their foe.

NGER is so uneasy a guest in the heart, that he may be said to be born unhappy who is of a rough and choleric disposition. The moralists have defined it to be 66 a desire of revenge for some injury offered." Men

of hot and heady tempers are eagerly desirous of vengeance, the very moment they apprehend themselves injured whereas the cool and sedate watch proper opportunities to return grief for grief to their enemy. By this means it often happens that the choleric inflict disproportioned punishments upon slight and sometimes imaginary offences but the temperately revengeful have leisure to weigh the merits of the cause, and thereby either to smother their secret resentments, or to seek proper and adequate reparations for the damages they have sustained. Weak minds are apt to speak well of the man of fury; because, when the storm is over, he is full of sorrow and repentance; but the truth is, he is apt to commit such ravages during his madness, that when he comes to himself, he becomes tame then, for the same reason that he ran wild before, only to give himself ease; and is a friend only to himself in both extremities. Men of this unhappy make, more frequently than any others, expect that their friends should bear with their infirmities. Their friends should in return desire them to correct their infirmities. The common excuses, that they cannot help it, that it was soon over, that they harbour no malice in their hearts, are arguments for pardoning a bull or a mastiff; but shall never reconcile me to an intellectual savage. Why indeed should any one imagine, that persons independent upon him should venture into his society, who hath not yet so far subdued his boiling blood, but that he is ready to do something the next minute which he can never repair, and hath nothing to plead in his own behalf but that he is apt to do mischief as fast as he can? Such a man may be feared, he may be pitied; he can never be loved.

I would not hereby be so understood as if I meant to recommend slow and deliberate malice; I would only observe, that men of moderation are of a more amiable character than the rash and inconsiderate; but if they do not husband the talent that Heaven hath bestowed upon them, they are as much more odious than the choleric, as the devil is more horrible than a brute. It is hard to say which of the two when injured is more troublesome to himself, or more hurtful to his enemy; the one is boisterous and gentle by fits, dividing his life between guilt and repentance, now all tempest, again all sunshine. The