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The rocks of Hernicus--besides a band,
That followed from Velinum's dewy land-
And mountaineers that from Severus came:
And from the craggy cliffs of Tetrica;
And those where yellow Tiber takes his way,
And where Himella's wanton waters play:
Casperia sends her arms, with those that lie
By Fabaris, and fruitful Foruli.

DRYDEN. But to proceed :

Earl Douglas on a milk-white steed,

Most like a baron bold,
Rode foremost of the company,

Whose armour shone like gold.
Thernus, ut antevolans tardum præcesserat agmen, &c.
Vidisti, quo Turnus equo, quibus ibat in armis

Æn. ix. 47. 269.
Our English archers bent their bows,

Their hearts were good and true;
At the first flight of arrows sent,

Full threescore Scots they slew.
They closed full fast on ev'ry side,

No slackness there was found;
And many a gallant gentleman

Lay gasping on the ground.
With that there came an arrow keen

Out of an English bow,
Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart,

A deep and deadly blow. Æneas was wounded after the same manner by an unknown hand in the midst of a parley.

Has inter voces, media inter talia verba,
Ecce viro stridens alis allapsa sagitta est,
Incertum quâ pulsa manu

Æn. xii. 318.
Thus, while he spake, unmindful of defence,
A winged arrow struck the pious prince;
But whether from a human hand it came,
Or hostile god, is left unknown by fame.



But of all the descriptive parts of this song,

there none more beautiful than the four following stanzas, which have a great force and spirit in them, and are filled with very natural circumstances. The thought in the third stanza was never touched by any other poet, and is such a one as would have shined in Homer or in Virgil:

So thus did both these nobles die,

Whose courage none could stain ;
An English archer then perceived

The noble Earl was slain.
He had a bow bent in his hand,

Made of a trusty tree,
An arrow of a cloth-yard long

Unto the head drew he.
Against Sir Hugh Montgomery

So right his shaft he set,
The gray-goose wing that was thereon

In his heart-blood was wet.
This fight did last from break of day

Till setting of the sun;
For when they rung the ev’ning bell

The battle scarce was done. One may observe, likewise, that in the catalogue of the slain, the author has followed the example of the greatest ancient poets, not only in giving a long list of the dead, but by diversifying it with little characters of particular persons.

And with Earl Douglas there was slain

Sir Hugh Montgomery,
Sir Charles Carrel, that from the field

One foot would never fly,
Sir Charles Murrel of Ratcliff too,

His sister's son was he;
Sir David Lamb so well esteem'd,

Yet saved could not be.
The familiar sound in these names destroys the ma-

jesty of the description ; for this reason I do not mention this part of the poem but to show the natural cast of thought which appears in it, as the two last verses look almost like a translation of Virgil.

--Cadit et Ripheus justissimus unus
Qui fuit in Teucris et servantissimus æqui.
Düs aliter visum,

ÆN. ii. 426.
Then Ripheus fell in the unequal fight,
Just of his word, observant of the right:
Heav'n thought not so.-


In the catalogue of the English who fell, Witherington's behaviour is in the same manner particularized very artfully, as the reader is prepared for it by that account which is given of him in the beginning of the battle; though I am satisfied your little buffoon readers, who have seen that passage ridiculed in Hudibras, will not be able to take the beauty of it: for which reason I dare not so much as quote it.

Then stept a gallant 'squire forth,

Witherington was his name,
Who said, I would not have it told

To Henry our king for shame,
That e'er my captain fought on foot,

And I stood looking on.
We meet with the same heroic sentiment in Virgil.

Non pudet, 0 Rutuli, cunctis pro talibus unam
Objectare animam ? numerone an viribus æqui
Non sumus?

ÆN. xii. 229.
For shame, Rutilians, can you bear the sight
Of one exposed for all, in single fight?
Can we before the face of heay'n confess
Our courage colder, or our numbers less?


What can be more natural, or more moving, than the circumstances in which he describes the behaviour of those women who had lost their husbands on this fatal day?

Next day did many widows come

Their husbands to bewail ;
They wash'd their wounds in brinish tears,

But all would not prevail.
Their bodies bathed in purple blood.

They bore with them away ;
They kiss'd them dead a thousand times,

When they were clad in clay.
Thus we see how the thoughts of this


which naturally arise from the subject, are always simple, and sometimes exquisitely noble; that the language is often very sounding, and that the whole is written with a true poetical spirit. If this


had been written in the Gothic manner, which is the delight of all our little wits, whether writers or readers, it would not have hit the taste of so many ages, and have pleased the readers of all ranks and conditions. I shall only beg pardon for such a profusion of Latin quotations; which I should not have made use of, but that I feared my own judgement would have looked too singular on such a subject, had not I supported it by the practice and authority of Virgil.


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No. 75. SATURDAY, MAY 26, 1711.

Omnis Aristippum decuit color, et status, et res.

HOR. EPIST. i. 17.23. All fortune fitted Aristippus well.


She was

It is with some mortification that I suffered the raillery of a fine lady of my acquaintance, for calling, in one of my papers *, Dorimant a clown. so unmerciful as to take advantage of my invincible taciturnity, and, on that occasion,

with great freedom to consider the air, the height, the face, the gesture of him who could pretend to judge so arrogantly of gallantry. She is full of motion, janty and lively in her impertinence, and one of those that commonly pass among the ignorant, for persons who have a great deal of humour. She had the play of Sir Fopling in her hand, and after she had said it was happy for her there was not so charming a creature as Dorimant now living, she began with a theatrical air and tone of voice to read, by way of triumph over me, some of his speeches. ''Tis she! that lovely air, that easy shape, those wanton eyes, and all those melting charms about her mouth, which Medley spoke of; I'll follow the lottery, and put in for a prize with my friend Bellair.'

In love the victors from the vanquish'd fly;
They fly that wound, and they pursue that die,

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