Though Halcyons do still,

Bewailing Ceyx lot,

The seas with plainings fill

Which his dead limmes have got,

Not ever other grave

Than tombe of waves to have.

And though the bird in death,
(That most Meander loves)

So sweetly sighes his breath,
When death his fury proves,

As almost softs his heart,
And almost blunts his dart:

Yet all the plaints of those,

Nor all their tearfull 'larmes,

Cannot content our woes,

Nor serve to waile the harmes In soule which we, poore we, To feele enforced be.]

SIR FRANCIS BACON,

VISCOUNT ST. ALBANS,

THE Prophet of Arts, which Newton was sent afterwards to reveal. It would be impertinent to the reader to enter into any account of this amazing genius, or his works 3: both will be universally admired as long as Science exists.— As long as ingratitude and adulation are despicable, so long shall we lament the depravity of this great man's heart!-Alas! that He who could command immortal fame, should have stooped to the little ambition of power4!

[Yet Bacon was not merely a vox clamantis in deserto, says Pinkerton, but actually made many experiments to ascertain his own philosophy, to one of which he fell a martyr. Letters of Literature, p. 342.]

[Dr. Johnson has been said to assert, that a dictionary of the English language might be compiled from Bacon's writings alone. See Boswell's Life, vol. ii. p. 583, 2d edit.]

4

* [The following verses addressed "to the lord Bacon, when falling from favour," are too good to be immured in the obscure little volume whence they are now extracted:

"Dazel'd thus with height of place,

While our hopes our wits beguile,
No man markes the narrow space
"Twixt a prison and a smile.

[Though lord Orford considered any farther account of sir Francis Bacon as an unnecessary intrusion upon the reader2, from the known celebrity of his illustrious talents; it can hardly be deemed respectful to his unblemished reputation as a writer3, not to give

"Then since Fortune's favors fade,
You that in her arms do sleep,
Learn to swim and not to wade,

For the hearts of kings are deep.

"But if greatness be so blinde

As to trust in towers of air;

Let it be with goodness lin❜d,

That at least the fall be fair.

"Then, though darken'd, you

UTHER

shall say,

When friends fail and princes frown ;
Vertue is the roughest way,

But proves at night a bed of down."

Bacon's Felicity of Queen Elizabeth, &c. 1651, p. 158.] There is a notice in the following paragraph which seems to have escaped lord Bacon's biographers. William Bagwell, in a preface to his Mystery of Astronomy, 1655, tells the reader that he had long wished for an opportunity to deposit his work in some university or college, and that he found none so acceptable as the erection of sir Francis Bacon's college intended to be established in Lambeth Marsh, near London, a worthy institution for the advancement of learning.

3 Howell stiles him "a man recondita scientiæ, et ad salutem literarum natus, and the eloquentest that was born in this isle." Fam. Letters, p. 175,0 ,edit. 1737.