him, or put it in the power of envy to tax his friend with faults that do not appear in what he has left to the world. A poet has a right to expect the fame fecrecy in his friend as in his confeffor; the fins he difcovers are not divulged for punishment but pardon. Indeed Pope is almost inexcufable in this inftance, as what he feems to condemn in one place he very much applauds in another. In one of the letters from him to Parnell, abovementioned, he treats the life of Homer with much greater refpect, and feems to fay, that the profe is excellent in its kind. It must be confeffed however, that he is by no means inconfiftent; what he says in both places may very easily be reconciled to truth, but who can defend his candour and his fincerity?

It would be hard however to fuppofe that there was no real friendship between these great men. The benevolence of Parnell's difpofition remains unimpeached; and Pope, tho' fubject to ftarts of paffion and envy, yet never miffed an opportunity of being truly serviceable to him. The commerce between them was carried on to the common intereft of

When Pope had a miscellany to publish, he applied to Panell for poetical affiftance, and the latter as implicitly fubmitted to him for correction. Thus they mutually advanced each other's intereft or fame, and grew ftronger by conjunction. Nor was Pope the only perfon to whom Parnell had recourfe for affiftance. We learn from Swift's let

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ters to Stella, that he fubmitted his pieces to all his friends, and readily adopted their alterations. Swift among the number was very useful to him in that particular; and care has been taken that the world fhould not remain ignorant of the obligation.

But in the connexion of wits, intereft has generally very little share; they have only pleasure in view, and can seldom find it but among each other. The Scriblerus club, when the members were in town, were feldom afunder, and they often made excurfions together into the country, and generally on foot. Swift was usually the butt of the company, and if a trick was played, he was always the fufferer. The whole party once agreed to walk down to the houfe of Lord B, who is ftill living, and whofe feat is about twelve miles from town. As every one agreed to make the best of his way, Swift, who was remarkable for walking, foon left all the reft behind him, fully refolved upon his arrival, to chufe the very beft bed for himself, for that was his cuftom. In the mean time Parnell was determined to prevent his intentions, and taking horfe, arrived at Lord B-'s, by another way, long before him. Having apprized his lordship of Swift's defign, it was refolved at any rate to keep him out of the houfe, but how to effect this was the queftion. Swift never had the fmall-pox, and was very much afraid of catching it: as foon therefore as he appeared ftriding along at fome

fome diftance from the houfe, one of his lordfhip's fervants was dispatched, to inform him, that the fmall-pox was then making great ravages in the family, but that there was a fummer-houfe with a field-bed at his fervice at the end of the garden. There the disappointed Dean was obliged to retire, and take a cold fupper that was fent out to him, while the reft were feafting within. However, at laft, they took compaffion on him; and upon his promising never to chuse the best bed again, they permitted him to make one of the company.

There is fomething fatisfactory in thefe accounts of the follies of the wife, they give a natural air to the picture, and reconcile us to our own. There have been few poetical focieties, more talked of, or productive of a greater variety of whimsical conceits than this of the Scriblerus club, but how long it lafted I cannot exactly determine. The whole of Parnell's poetical existence was not of more than eight or ten years continuance; his first excurfions to England began about the year 1706, and he died in the year 1718, fo that it is probable the club began with him, and his death ended the connexion. Indeed the feftivity of his converfation, the, benevolence of his heart, and the generofity of his temper, were qualities that might ferve to cement any fociety, and that could hardly be replaced when he was taken away. During the two or three laft years of his life, he was more fond of company than ever, and could fcarce bear

to

to be alone. The death of his wife, it is faid, was a loss to him that he was unable to fupport or recover. From that time he could never venture to court the mufe in folitude, where he was fure to find the image of her who first inspired his attempts. He began therefore to throw himself into every company, and to feek from wine, if not relief, at leaft infenfibility. Thofe helps that forrow first called in for affiftance, habit foon rendered neceffary, and he died before his fortieth year, in fome meafure a martyr to conjugal fidelity.

Thus in the space of a very few years Parnell, attained a fhare of fame, equal to what most of his cotemporaries were a long life in acquiring. He is only to be confidered as a poet, and the univerfal efteem in which his poems are held, and the reite rated pleasure they give in the perufal, are a fufficient teft of their merit. He appears to me to be the laft of that great school that had modelled itself upon the ancients, and taught English poetry to refemble what the gencrality of mankind have allowed to excel. A ftudious and correct obferver of antiquity, he fet himself to confider nature with the lights it lent him, and he found that the more aid he borrowed from the one, the more delightfully he refembled the other. To copy nature is a tafk the moft bungling workman is able to execute; to felect fuch parts as contribute to delight, is referved only for those whom accident has bleft with uncommon talents, or fuch as have read the ancients

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with indefatigable induftry. Parnell is ever happy in the felection of his images, and fcrupulously careful in the choice of his fubjects. His productions bear no refemblance to thofe tawdry things, which it has for fome time been the fashion to admire; in writing which the poet fits down without any plan, and heaps up fplendid images without any felection; where the reader grows dizzy with praise and admiration, and yet foon grows weary, he can. fcarce tell why. Our poet, on the contrary, gives out his beauties with a more fparing hand; he is till carrying his reader forward, and just gives him refreshment fufficient to fupport him to his journey's end. At the end of his course the reader regrets that his way has been fo fhort, he wonders that it gave him fo little trouble, and fo refolves to go the journey over again.

His poetical language is not lefs correct than his fubjects are pleafing. He found it at that period, in which it was brought to its highest pitch of refinement; and ever fince his time it has been gradually debafing. It is indeed amazing, after what has been done by Dryden, Addison, and Pope, to improve and harmonize our native tongue, that their fucceffors fhould have taken fo much pains to involve it in priftine barbarity. Thefe mifguided innovators have not been content with reftoring antiquared words and phrafes, but have indulged themfelves in the moft licentious tranfpofitions, and the harfheft conftructions, vainly imagining, that the

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