When I had once addressed your lordship in public I had exhausted all the art of pleasing that a retired and uncourtly scholar can possess. I had done all that I could; and no man is well pleased to have his all neglected, be it ever so little. Three years, my lord, have now passed since I waited in your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during which time I have been pushing on my work through difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it at last to the verge of publication, without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile of favor. Such treatment I did not expect, for I never had a patron before. The shepherd in " Virgil" grew at last acquainted with Love, and found him a native of the rocks. Is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and, when he has reached the ground, encumbers him with help? The notice which you have been pleased to take of my labors, had it been early, had been kind; but it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, and cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it. I hope it is no very cynical asperity not to confess obligations where no benefit has been received, or to be unwilling that the public should consider me as owing to a patron that which Providence has enabled me to do for myself. Having carried on my work thus far with so little obligation to any favorer of learning, I shall not be disappointed though I shall conclude it, if less be pos sible, with less; for I have long been wakened from that dream of hope in which I once boasted myself with so much exaltation. My lord, your lordship's most humble, Most obedient servant, SAMUEL JOHNSON. THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER. ALEXANDER POPE. FATHER of all! in every age, In every clime adored, By saint, by savage, and by sage, Thou great First Cause, least understood, To know but this, that thou art good, Yet gave me, in this dark estate, Left free the human will. What conscience dictates to be done, This teach me more than hell to shun, That more than heaven pursue. What blessings thy free bounty gives Let me not cast away; For God is paid when man receives: Yet not to earth's contracted span Let not this weak, unknowing hand If I am right, thy grace impart Save me alike from foolish pride, At aught thy wisdom has denied, Teach me to feel another's woe, Mean though I am, not wholly so, O, lead me wheresoe'er I go, Through this day's life or death. This day be bread and peace my lot; Thou knowest if best bestowed or not, UNDER THE PORTRAIT OF MILTON. THREE poets, in three distant ages born, L'ALLEGRO. JOHN MILTON. COME, thou goddess fair and free, In heaven yclept Euphrosyne. Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful jollity, Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, And in thy right hand lead with thee While the cock, with lively din, Oft listening how the hounds and horn, Through the high wood echoing shrill. |