his works are,

* An Esjay cu translated Verse, a translation of the Art of Poetry, and some little poems, and translations.

been displayed in large volumes, and numerous performances ? Who would not, after the perusal of this character, be surprised to find, that all the proofs of this genius, and knowledge, and judgment, are not sufficient to form a singie book, or to appear otherwise than in conjunction with the works of some other writer of the fame petty size? But thus it is that characters are written, we know somewhat, and we imagine the rest. The observation that bis imagination would probably have been more fruitful and sprightly, if bis judgment had been lefs severe, may be answered, by a remarker somewhat inclined to cavil, by a contrary fuppofition, that his judgment would probably have been lefs severe, if bis imagination bad been more fruitful. It is ridiculous to oppofe judgment and imagi. nation ; for it does not appear that men have necessarily less of one as they have more of the other.

We mult allow of Rofcommon, what Fenton has not mentioned, so diftin&tly as he ought, and, what is yet very much to his honour, that he is, perhaps, the only correct writer in verse before, Addison ; and that if there are not so many or so great beauties in his composition, as in those of some contemporaries, there are at least fewer faults. Nor is this his highest praise; for Mr. Pope has celebrated hiin as the only moral writer of king Charles's reign.

Unhappy Dryden!--in all Charles's days

Rofcommon only boasts unspotted lays. * " It was my lord Roscommon's Elay on translated Verje, says

Dryden, which made me uneasy, till I tried whether or no I was " capable of following his rules, and of reducing the speculation « into practice. For many a fair precept in poetry is like a seem“ ing demonstration in mathematics; very specious in the diagram, “ but failing in the mechanic operation, I think, I have geneThis declaration of Dryden, will, I am afraid, be found little more than one of those cursory civilities, which one author pays to another; for when the sum of lord Roscommon's precepts is collected, it will not be easy to discover, how they can qualify their reader for a better performance of translation, than might have been attained by his own reflexions. They are, however, here laid down, and disentangled from the ornaments with which they are embellished, and the digressions with which they are diversified.

to your

When things appear unnatural or hard,
Consult your author, with himself compar'd.
Who knows what bleslings Phæbus may bestow,
And future
ages

labour owe?
Such secrets are not easily found out,
But once discover'd, leave no room for doubt.
Truth ftamps conviction in your ravish'd breast,
And peace and joy attend the glorious guest.
Yet if the shadow of a scruple stray,
Sure the most beaten is the safeft way.

They who too faithfully on names insist,
Rather create than dislipate the mist;
And grow unjust by being over nice,
(For superstitious virtue turns to vice).
Let Crafus' ghoft, and Labienus' tell
How twice in Parthian plains their legions fell ;
Since Rome hath been so jealous of her fame,
That few know Pacorus or Monæfès' name.

'And 'tis much safer to leave out than add.
Abftrufe and mystick tho'ts you must express
With painful care, but seeming easiness;
For truth shines brightest thro' the plaineft dress.
Your author always will the best advise,

Fall when he falls, and when he rises, rise.
He that can abstract his mind from the elegance of the poetry,
and confine it to the sense of the precepts, will find no other direc:
tion, than that the author should be suitable to the translator's ge-
nius; that he should be such as may deserve a translation ; that he
who intends to translate him, should endeavour to understand him ;
that perspicuity should be studied, and unusual or uncouth names
sparingly inserted, and that the stile of the original should be co-
pied in its elevation and depreslion. These are the rules which are
celebrated as fo definite and so important, and for the delivery of
which to mankind, so much honour has been paid. Rofecmes
has, indeed, deserved his honours, had they been given with disa
cernment, and bestowed not on the rules themselves, but the art
with which they are introduced, and the decorations with which
they are adorned.

ME

G Ꮐ

EORGE BERKELEY was the son of a clergyman

in Ireland, of a small living, but at the same time remarkable for his learning and piety; he therefore gave his fon the best education his circumstances would admit of; and, when fitted for the university, taxed his little fortune, in order to send him to Trinity college, Dublin,

Here he soon began to be looked upon as the greatest genius, or the greatest dunce, in the whole university ; those who were bụt Nightly acquainted with him, took him for a fool; but those who shared his most intimate friendship, looked upon him as a prodigy of learning and good-nature. Whenever he appeared abroad, which was but feldom, he was surrounded by a crowd of the idle or the facetious, who followed him, not to be improved, but to laugh. Of this he frequently complained, but there was no redress; the more he fretted, he became only the more ridiculous. An action of his, however, foon made him more truly ridiculous than before : curiosity leading him one day to fee an execution, he returned home pensive and melancholy, and could not forbear reflecting on what he had seen. He desired to know what were the pains and symptoms a malefactor felt upon such an occasion, and communicated to his chun the cause of his strange curiosity; in short, he resolved to tuck himself up för a trial; at the same time defiring his companion to take him down at a signal agreed upon.

The companion, whose name was Contarine, was to try the fame experiment himself immediately after. Berkeley was accordingly tied up to the ceiling, and the chair taken from under his feet; but soon losing the use of his senses, his companion, it seems, waited a little too long for the signal agreed upon, and our enquirer had like to have been hanged in good earnest; for as foon as he was taken down, he fell, fenseless and motionless, upon the floor. After some trouble, however, he was brought to himself; and observing his band, “ Bless my heart, Contarine, says he, you have quite rumpled my band.” When it came to Contarine's turn to go up, he quickly evaded the proposal; the other's danger had quite abated his curiosity.

Still, however, Berkeley proceeded in his studies wich unabated ardour. A fellowship in that college is attained by superior learning only; the candidates are examined in the most public manner, in an amphitheatre erected for that purpose, and great numbers of the nobility and gentry are present upon the occasion. This examination he passed with the utmost applause, and was made a fellow, the only reward of learning that kingdom has to bestow.

Metaphysical studies are generally the amusement of the indolent and the inquisitive; his business as a fellow, allowed him fuficient leisure, and his genius prompted him to scrutinize into every abstruse subject. He foon,

therefore,