tragedy to them, rather than comedy; and should think the puppet-show much safer for them than the opera all the while the sun is in Gemini. The reader will observe, that this paper is written for the use of those ladies who think it worth while to war against nature in the cause of honour. As for that abandoned crew, who do not think virtue worth contending for, but give up their reputation at the first summons, such warnings and premonitions are thrown away upon them. A prostitute is the same easy creature in all months of the year, and makes no difference between May and December. X. No. 366. Wednesday, April 30, 1712 TH Pone me pigris ubi nulla campis [STEELE. -HOR., I Od. xxii. 17. HERE are such wild inconsistencies in the thoughts of a man in love, that I have often reflected there can be no reason for allowing him more liberty than others possessed with frenzy; but that his distemper has no malevolence in it to any mortal. That devotion to his mistress kindles in his mind a general tenderness, which exerts itself towards every object as well as his fair one. When this passion is represented by writers, it is common with them to endeavour at certain quaintnesses and turns of imagination, which are apparently the work of a mind at ease; but the 249 men of true taste can easily distinguish the exertion of a mind which overflows with tender sentiments, and the labour of one which is only describing distress. In performances of this kind, the most absurd of all things is to be witty; every sentiment must grow out of the occasion, and be suitable to the circumstances of the character. Where this rule is transgressed, the humble servant, in all the fine things he says, is but showing his mistress how well he can dress, instead of saying how well he loves. Lace and drapery is as much a man, as wit and turn is passion. 'Mr. SPECTATOR, 1 "THE following verses are verses are a translation of a Lapland love-song, which I met with in Scheffer's history of that country. I was agreeably surprised to find a spirit of tenderness and poetry in a region which I never suspected for delicacy. 1 John Scheffer (1621-1679), Professor of Law and Rhetoric at the University of Upsala, and librarian to Queen Christina of Sweden, published Lapponia,' in Latin, in 1673. In the following year an English version was printed at Oxford, and Ambrose Philips, the writer of the verses in the Spectator, based his work on the translation of 1674, of which the following is a specimen :With brightest beams let the sun shine On Orra Moor. A version of another song from the same source will be found in No. 406 (Morley). In hotter climates, though altogether uncivilised, I had not wondered if I had found some sweet wild notes among the natives, where they live in groves of oranges, and hear the melody of birds about them but a Lapland lyric, breathing sentiments of love and poetry not unworthy old Greece or Rome; a regular ode from a climate pinched with frost, and cursed with darkness so great a part of the year, where 'tis amazing that the poor natives should get food, or be tempted to propagate their species; this, I confess, seemed a greater miracle to me, than the famous stories of their drums, their winds, and enchantments. I am the bolder in commending this northern song, because I have faithfully kept to the sentiments, without adding or diminishing; and pretend to no greater praise from my translation, than they who smooth and clean the furs of that country which have suffered by carriage. The numbers in the original are as loose and unequal, as those in which the British ladies sport their Pindarics; and perhaps the fairest of them might not think it a disagreeable present from a lover: but I have ventured to bind it in stricter measures, as being more proper for our tongue, though perhaps wilder graces may better suit the genius of the Lapponian language. It will be necessary to imagine that the author of this song, not having the liberty of visiting his mistress at her father's house, was in hopes of spying her at a distance in the fields. I. Thou rising sun, whose gladsome ray Dispel the mist, and clear the skies, And bring my Orra to my eyes. 'I AM one of those despicable creatures called a chambermaid, and have lived with a mistress for some time, whom I love as my life, which has made my duty and pleasure inseparable. My greatest delight has been in being employed about her person; My and indeed she is very seldom out of humour, for a woman of her quality; but here lies my complaint, sir: to bear with me is all the encouragement she is pleased to bestow upon me; for she gives her castoff clothes from me to others; some she is pleased to bestow in the house to those that neither wants nor wears them; and some to hangers-on that frequents the house daily, who comes dressed out in them. This, sir, is a very mortifying sight to me, who am a little necessitous for clothes and loves to appear what I am, and causes an uneasiness, so that I can't serve with that cheerfulness as formerly; which my mistress takes notice of, and calls envy and illtemper at seeing others preferred before me. mistress has a younger sister lives in the house with her that is some thousands below her in estate, who is continually heaping her favours on her maid, so that she can appear every Sunday, for the first quarter, in a fresh suit of clothes for her mistress's giving, with all other things suitable: all this I see without envying, but not without wishing my mistress would a little consider what a discouragement it is to me to have my perquisites divided between fawners and jobbers, which others enjoy entire to themselves. I have spoke to my mistress, but to little purpose; I have desired to be discharged (for indeed I fret myself to nothing), but that she answers with silence. I beg, sir, your direction what to do, for I am fully resolved to follow your counsel; who am Your Admirer and humble Servant, CONSTANTIA COMB-BRUSH. 'I beg that you would put it in a better dress, and let it come abroad, that my mistress, who is an admirer of your speculations, may see it.' T. |