O'erlook the foe, advantaged by his post, Though fens and floods possessed the middle space, But O, my muse, what numbers wilt thou find 'Twas then great Marlbro's mighty soul was proved, The concluding simile of the angel has been much celebrated, and was so admired by the lord treasurer, that on seeing it, without waiting for the completion of the poem, he rewarded the poet by ap pointing him, in the place of Locke-who had been promoted—a commissioner of appeals. From the Tragedy of Cato. Act IV.-Scene 4.-Re-enter PORTIUS. PORTIUS. Misfortune on misfortune! grief on grief! CATO. Ha! what has he done? Has he forsook his post? has he given way? Did he look tamely on, and let them pass? PORTIUS. Scarce had I left my father, but I met him. Borne on the shields of his surviving soldiers, Breathless and pale, and covered o'er with wounds. Long at the head of his few faithful friends PORTIUS. Nor did he fall before His sword had pierced through the false heart of Syphax. Grin in the pangs of death, and bite the ground. CATO. Thanks to the gods! my boy has done his duty. His urn near mine. PORTIUS. Long may they keep asunder. LUCIUS. O Cato! arm thy soul with all its patience; The citizens and senators, alarmed, Have gathered round it, and attend it weeping. Welcome, my son! here lay him down, my friends, The bloody corse, and count those glorious wounds. CATO. Alas! my friends, [Aside. Why mourn you thus ? let not a private loss Afflict your hearts. "Tis Rome requires our tears. The mistress of the world, the seat of empire, The nurse of heroes, the delight of gods, O liberty! O virtue! O my country! JUBA. Behold that upright man! Rome fills his eyes The Fabii fell, and the great Scipios conquered: The Roman empire fallen! O curst ambition! CATO. Cæsar ashamed! has not he seen Pharsalia? LUCIUS. Cæsar has mercy, if we ask it of him. JUBA. If I forsake thee Whilst I have life, may Heaven abandon Juba! Wrestling with vice and faction: now thou seest me [A side. Let me advise thee to retreat betimes Where the great Censor toiled with his own hands, In humble virtues and a rural life. There live retired; pray for the peace of Rome; When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway, PORTIUS. I hope my father does not recommend CATO. Farewell, my friends! if there be any of you Know, there are ships prepared by my command- In happier climes, and on a safer shore, [Pointing to his dead son. There the brave youth, with love of virtue fired, Shall know he conquered. The firm patriot there- Though still, by faction, vice, and fortune crossed, Act V-Scene 1. [CATO, alone, sitting in a thoughtful posture: in his hand Plato's book on the Im mortality of the Soul. "A drawn sword on the table by him.] It must be so-Plato, thou reason'st well!— Else whence this pleasing hope, this foud desire, Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, Of falling into nought? why shrinks the soul 'Tis the divinity that stirs within us; 'Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter, Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought! Through what variety of untried being, Through what new scenes and changes must we pass ? The wide, th' unbounded prospect lies before me; But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it. Here will I hold. If there's a power above us And that there is, all nature cries aloud Through all her works-he must delight in virtue; But when? or where? This world was made for Cæsar. [Laying his hand on his sword, Thus am I doubly armed: my death and life, But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, What means this heaviness that hangs upon me? MATTHEW PRIOR. MATTHEW PRIOR was born at a place called Abbot Street, one mile from Wimborne-Minster, Dorsetshire, on the 21st of July 1664. He was, as Swift told Stella, of mean birth; but fortunately a superior education was within his reach. His uncle, Samuel Prior, who kept the Rummer Tavern at Charing Cross, took the charge of bringing up his nephew, and he placed him at Westminster School. It is said he was afterwards taken home to assist in the business of the inn, and whilst there, was one day seen by the Earl of Dorset reading Horace. The earl generously undertook the care of his education; and in his eighteenth year, Prior was entered of St. John's College, Cambridge. He distinguished himself during his academical career, and amongst other copies of verses, produced (1687), in conjunction with the Honourable Charles Montagu, the City Mouse and Country Mouse,' in ridicule of Dryden's Hind and Panther.' The Earl of Dorset did not forget the poet he had snatched from obscurity. He invited him to London, and obtained for him an appointment as secretary to the Earl of Berkeley, ambassador to the Hague. In this capacity, Prior obtained the approbation of King William, who made him one of the gentlemen of his bed-chamber. In 1697, he was appointed secretary to the embassy on the treaty of Ryswick, at the conclusion of which he was presented with a considerable sum of money by the lords-justices. Next year he was ambassador at the court of Versailles. Johnson relates that as the poet was one day surveying the apartments at Versailles, being shewn the victories of Louis painted by Le Brun, and asked whether the King of England's palace had any such decorations: The monuments of my master's actions,' said he, are to be seen everywhere but in his own house.' On his return to England the poet was appointed a Commissioner of Trade. In 1701, he entered the House of Commons as representative for the borough of East Grinstead, and abandoning his former friends, the Whigs, joined the Tories in impeaching Lord Somers. This came with a peculiarly bad grace from Prior, for the charge against Somers was, that he had advised the partition treaty, in which treaty the poet himself had acted as agent. He evinced his patriotism, however, by afterwards celebrating in verse the battles of Blenheim and Ramilies (1706). When the Whig government was at length overturned, Prior became attached to Harley's administration, and went with Bolingbroke to France in 1711, to negotiate a treaty of peace. He lived in splendour in Paris, was a favourite of the French monarch, and enjoyed all the honours of ambassador. He returned to London in 1715. Queen Anne was then dead (August 1, 1714); and the Whigs being again in office, Prior was committed to custody on a charge of high treason. The accusation against him was, that he had held clandestine conferences with the French plenipotentiary, though, as he justly replied, no treaty was ever made without private interviews and preliminaries. The Whigs were indignant at the disgraceful treaty of Utrecht; but Prior only shared in the culpability of the government. The able but profligate Bolingbroke was the master-spirit that prompted the humiliating concession to France. After two years' confinement, the poet was released without a trial. He had in the interval written his poem of 'Alma;' and being now left without any other support than his fellowship of St. John's College, he continued his studies, and produced his 'Solomon,' the most elaborate of his works. He had also recourse to the publication of a collected edition of his poems (1718), which was sold to subscribers for two guineas each copy, and which realised four thousand guineas. An equal sum was presented to Prior by the Earl of Oxford, and thus he had laid up a provision for old age. He was ambitious only of comfort and private enjoyment. These, however, he did not long possess; for he died on the 18th of September 1721, at Lord Oxford's seat at Wimpole, being at the time in the fifty-seventh year of his age. The Duchess of Portland, Lord Oxford's daughter, said Prior made himself beloved by every living thing in the house-master, child, and servant, human creature or anima!. He is, however, described as having been fond of low company, and at the time of his death, was, according to Arbuthnot, on the point of marrying a certain Bessy Cox, who kept an alehouse in Long Acre. To this worthless female and to his man-servant, Prior left his estate. Arbuthnot, writing to a friend the month after Prior's death, says: 'We are to have a bowl of punch at Bessy Cox's. She would fain have put it upon Lewis that she was his (Prior's) Emma: she owned Flanders Jane was his Chloe.' To this doubtful Chloe some of his happiest effusions were devoted. The fairest and most high-born lady in the land might have envied such complimentary strains as the following: What I speak, my fair Chloe, and what I write, shews The difference there is betwixt nature and art; I court others in verse, but I love thee in prose; The god of us verse-men-you know, child-the Sun, |